


Arms and Enemies

by idoltina



Series: Breakeven [3]
Category: Glee
Genre: Explicit Language, F/F, Gen, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-13
Updated: 2011-08-13
Packaged: 2017-11-21 21:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/602356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idoltina/pseuds/idoltina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follows the five core members of the Lima chapter of PFLAG from March 2014 through January 2016. David asks for lessons in flirting. California legislation works to repeal Proposition 8. Blaine helps David struggle through unrequited love and self-loathing. One couple gets engaged, another married, and another formed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Illusions of Wealth

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings (if any):** Language, mentions of sex

**March 2014: New York**

_To: kurt_hummel@fitnyc.edu_  
Cc: blaine.anderson@nyu.edu  
From: dkarofsky@fsu.edu 

_Subject: Skype?_

_Hey Kurt,_

_Are you guys free Friday night, around seven? I was hoping we could Skype. I had some questions._

_Thanks,  
Dave_

_P.S. Congrats on the engagement._

_To: dkarofsky@fsu.edu_  
Cc: blaine.anderson@nyu.edu  
From: kurt_hummel@fitnyc.edu 

_Subject: RE: Skype?_

_Hey Dave! We're good for Friday night, but we might need to push it to seven-thirty. Talk to you then!  
Kurt_

_P.S. Thanks! Can't wait for you to see the ring! ;)_

*****

“Blaine, hurry up! It's seven-twenty-five and I still have to cook dinner.”

Blaine fights to rinse the rest of the conditioner from his hair but doesn't rush; it's the first time he's had a minute to breathe all week and he's not going to let Kurt rush him through a shower at the end of finals. “Almost done,” he placates calmly, massaging his scalp.

Kurt pokes his head around the edge of the curtain. “I'm serious. We said seven-thirty, we're already going to be eating over web cam, that's rude enough --”

“Kurt,” Blaine laughs, “relax. I'm pretty sure David's not going to care if we eat a bowl of pasta in front of him.” Kurt sighs, exasperated, but he gives Blaine a once over, smirking as his eyes fall lower on Blaine's frame. Blaine arches his eyebrows. “Like what you see?”

Kurt's eyes snap back up to his face and he scowls a little. “No. Now hurry up and get out so you can get dressed. I have to keep an eye on the pasta which means you're going to have to keep him entertained.”

“Are you sure you don't want to join me?” Blaine asks innocently, pouting.

Kurt bites his lip but squares his shoulders and huffs. “Blaine Anderson, get out of the shower or else I will not even _consider_ taking your clothes off after this Skype date is over.”

When Blaine emerges from the bathroom a few minutes later, Kurt's already got his laptop set up on the kitchen island, a slightly steaming pot of water behind him. “Sorry,” Kurt's saying as Blaine towels his hair dry. “Blaine had exams and I had a project due and then _someone_ was late meeting me for coffee --”

“I said I was sorry,” Blaine protests. “I had to stay after and talk to my professor.”

“And then he had to take a shower when we got home -- who he thinks he's trying to impress, I don't know --”

“Oh my god, are you really giving me grief for taking a shower?” Blaine groans, unable to resist the urge to throw something at his incredibly obnoxious fiance. He grabs a zebra print pillow from the foot of the bed and tosses it in the direction of the kitchen; it lands five feet away from the kitchen island where Kurt sits.

“You have horrible aim,” Kurt comments casually before turning his attention back to David. “So now I'm cooking and talking to you and -- _oh my god, Blaine, put some clothes on!_ ” Kurt shrieks, tugging the laptop closer to him even though the camera isn't focused anywhere near Blaine. Blaine grins but obliges, tugging open a dresser drawer and throwing on a pair of flannel pajama pants. “And a shirt,” Kurt instructs, refusing to relinquish his hold on the laptop. Blaine laughs but tugs on an old _Hummel Tires and Lube_ shirt from one of Kurt's drawers and crosses the small apartment to join him. Kurt reaches up a hand to ruffle Blaine's curls, damp and loose from the shower, and pushes his fiance onto the bar stool in his place. “Entertain him. I have to cook.”

Blaine rolls his eyes but turns his attention to the laptop screen where David is trying not to laugh at him. “Hi,” Blaine huffs out, unable to hold back a laugh.

“Hey.” David grins a little but seems to settle back into his mattress again almost immediately. It takes Blaine a moment to realize that David is _nervous_.

“So...” Blaine prompts, arching an eyebrow.

“So...” David parrots, eyes glancing to the side of the screen as if he's searching out Kurt. “Ring?”

“Oh!” Kurt says brightly, leaning over to inch his head sideways into the frame. “Ta-da!” He wiggles his fingers in front of the camera; Blaine grins when the overhead light catches the gold and reflects in the lens of the camera.

“Nice,” David remarks. “You set a date?”

“No,” Blaine laughs as Kurt kisses his cheek and disappears from the frame. “Not until after graduation. Two years for Kurt, three for me --”

“Plenty of time to plan,” Kurt says dismissively from the stove. He reaches up to open a cupboard and pull down bowls. “What'd you want to talk about, Dave? It seemed important.”

Blaine looks at David expectantly, who seems to realize that he can't skirt around the subject or delay discussing it. The picture shakes a little as David shifts the laptop on his legs, and he rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck as he asks, very slowly and hesitantly, “How do you... flirt with a guy?”

_Crash._

Blaine whips around to find a plate shattered in pieces on the floor and Kurt staring at the screen slack-jawed. “Jesus, Kurt, way to give me a heart attack,” Blaine hisses.

“I --” Kurt looks visibly flustered but quickly grabs a broom and dustpan from the corner to clean up the mess. “You are so lucky that wasn't my mother's china,” he seethes at David from the floor. “My dad gave it to us as a housewarming gift and --”

“Kurt, focus,” Blaine sighs, nodding toward the screen.

“Right. _You_ ,” Kurt snaps, striding to the screen with purpose. “You little _shit._ ”

“Oh my god,” Blaine bursts out, laughing. “You've been spending way too much time around me.”

“I live with you and I'm marrying you. Of course I've been spending too much time with you,” Kurt reasons. “Now,” he continues, turning his attention back to the screen. David shrinks back a little even though Kurt can't actually reach him. “You can't just ask something like that and not explain, give us something, anything.”

“I -- I don't...” David look incredibly uncomfortably and Blaine aches for him a little; David's obviously given this a lot of thought and it must've taken ages to work up the nerve to ask them for help like this.

“Okay, back up,” Blaine cuts in, holding up a hand. “Start at the beginning. Obviously, there's someone you want to flirt with. Tell us about him.”

“Yes,” Kurt agrees eagerly, pulling up the second bar stool and settling in next to Blaine, elbows propped on the island, chin resting on his hands. “Spill.”

“You are, like, the biggest gossip I know,” Blaine laughs, shaking his head.

“Am not,” Kurt counters. “You can't tell me you're not interested. Dave has a _crush_. This is headline news.”

“I'm the journalism major here,” David points out with a laugh. “Well, broadcast, but still.”

“Gossip,” Blaine points out to Kurt with a grin, but he lets it go and casts an encouraging smile David's way.

There's a pause on the other end -- David seems to be deliberating something -- but finally he sighs and unsuccessfully tries to fight back a smile. “His name's Luke --”

“What does he look like?” Kurt interrupts.

“Kurt, let him talk.”

“No, it's okay,” David mumbles, fingers moving over his keyboard. “This actually helps. Hang on, let me -- there.”

Blaine clicks on the link that pops up (a black and white photo) and squints in confusion; there's something familiar about the face that greets him but he can't quite pinpoint it. “Oh my god,” Kurt breathes. “He's gorgeous.”

“Hey,” Blaine whines. “I'm right here.”

“Oh honey,” Kurt laughs, patting his cheek fondly. “He's not exactly my type.”

“I didn't even know you had a type,” Blaine grumbles.

“Well, I thought I did, before I met you,” Kurt muses. “He actually would've fit, but,” he presses on, scooting his stool closer, “like I said, that was before I met you. You're totally my type. Promise,” he says with a grin, wiggling his ring finger in Blaine's face.

Blaine smiles in spite of himself but looks back at the screen, slightly miffed when David snorts. “Sorry,” David laughs. “It's just -- he's got you wrapped around his finger, you know that?”

“Are you just now figuring this out?” Kurt quips.

“Again, hey!” Blaine protests, but he can't keep a straight face and soon all three of them are laughing. “Okay, okay, we're getting off topic. Luke -- blonde hair, blue eyes?” Blaine guesses.

David nods and Kurt gasps. Blaine looks at him questioningly. “He totally looks like Sam,” Kurt points out.

“Hey,” Blaine says slowly, looking at the picture again. “He kind of does.”

“No,” David says firmly. “No, he doesn't. He's not -- he's nothing like Evans, trust me.”

“You say that like Sam's not a decent person,” Kurt argues.

“It's not like that,” David sighs, rubbing at his eyes in frustration. “Can we just move on? I'd rather focus on current crushes --”

“You had a crush on _Sam_?” Kurt asks incredulously. “Oh my god, so did I --”

“Moving on,” Blaine interjects. “Tell us more about Luke.”

“No, but, do it like a dating profile,” Kurt suggests, settling down again. “Hi, I'm Kurt Hummel. Brown hair, blue eyes, tall, slender, student at FIT, amazing voice, likes scarves --”

“Engaged,” Blaine adds cheekily. Kurt grins at him.

“Okay,” David agrees, laughing. “Luke Barnes. Blonde hair, blue eyes, sh -- vertically challenged,” he amends, casting a glance at Blaine. Kurt snickers. “Journalism major --”

“Broadcast?” Blaine teases.

“No, just regular journalism,” David clarifies, still laughing.

“So how'd you meet him?” Kurt pries.

“Well, we have a lot of the same general ed. classes, and we'll have a lot of the same major classes together, but we, uh, we actually met at the first PFLAG meeting I went to when I moved down here,” David admits with a slight blush.

Kurt blinks and smiles warmly; Blaine reaches over to take his hand out of frame. “So,” Kurt says thickly, clearing his throat, “no hiding then.”

“No,” David chuckles. “No hiding. Out in the open from day one.”

Kurt can't stop smiling and Blaine mirrors him for a moment before faltering, brow furrowing as he turns his attention back to David. “Wait,” Blaine says slowly. “The first meeting you went to when you moved down there?” he checks. David nods. “But that was like, a year and a half ago.”

“Oh my god,” Kurt gasps quietly. “So wait. Have you always been into him and you're just now acting on it, or are you just now developing feelings for him?”

“I -- both? I don't know,” David groans, throwing his head back to rest on his pillow.

“But you like him,” Blaine says simply.

“I -- yeah, I do,” David admits, chancing a glance at the screen. “But we're friends, I can't just tell him that.”

“Yes,” Kurt argues, grinning at Blaine, “you can.”

“Oh! Idea!” Blaine says excitedly, practically bouncing on the stool. “Okay, what's your range?”

David merely looks his confusion, but Kurt shakes his head vehemently. “ _No_ ,” he insists fiercely. “Do not suggest singing to him, Blaine. Three words: Warblers'. Gap. Attack.”

“Unfair,” Blaine grumbles, annoyed. “Besides, I sang to you when we first met --”

“Oh my god, that was a planned performance, that totally doesn't count.”

“When you transferred back to McKinley --”

“To say goodbye,” Kurt points out. “If anything, this is more like hello, except... _hello_ ,” he drawls, waggling his eyebrows.

David groans and buries his face in his hands.

“You could sing together?” Blaine suggests weakly.

“You're picking apart pivotal moments in our relationship, aren't you?” Kurt asks, amused. “And yet none of those moments were what made you fall for me.”

“No,” Blaine agrees with a small smile. “That was _you_ singing.”

Kurt's quiet for a moment. “A lot of our moments revolve around singing to each other, don't they?” Blaine hmms in response and Kurt colors a little. “That's what works for us. That's not necessarily going to work for Dave.”

“You're the only real experience I have,” Blaine defends. “What else am I suppose to use to help him with?”

“Something that doesn't involve a theatrical music performance?” Kurt suggests. Blaine waves him on. “Okay, you can... Compliment him. That's always a good place to start.”

“To start, yes, but you'll work your way up to insulting him to his face,” Blaine chides, winking at Kurt.

“Do you not _want_ me to be honest with you?” Kurt snaps.

“Teasing,” Blaine soothes, wrapping his arms around Kurt and snuggling close. Kurt settles into the hug begrudgingly. “I think what we're getting from this --”

“We're getting something from this?” David deadpans, raising an eyebrow.

“Catty,” Kurt gasps. “I didn't know you had it in you. I'm so proud.”

“Like I was saying,” Blaine barrels on, resting his cheek on Kurt's shoulder, “is that we don't know what your relationship is like. We don't know how you act around each other, what practices you follow, things like that. Being honest and singing how we feel, that's how Kurt and I work. Being honest is always a good start, but I get why you don't want to just tell him.”

“You do?” David asks, surprised.

“Well, yeah,” Blaine says awkwardly, shifting uncomfortably against Kurt. “When Kurt first told me how he felt, I _panicked_. I didn't know if I felt the same or not and he was too important to me at that point to risk losing.”

Kurt's lips press softly against the top of his head, causing Blaine to relax a little, but then Kurt is squirming out of Blaine's embrace, eyes wide. “Luke's not bi, is he?” he asks seriously.

“No?” David says, confused. “He's definitely gay. Why?”

“Can we please stop bringing up every romantic disaster I've ever had?” Blaine groans, glaring at Kurt.

“Kind of hard not to since Rachel Berry lives fifteen minutes away,” Kurt teases good-naturedly. He inhales and then does it again, nose wrinkling. “Oh my god, dinner!” he shrieks, untangling himself from Blaine and rushing over to the stove. Once he's turned off the fire, he looks down at the pot, frowning. “We have no food,” he says sadly. “I'm hungry.”

“We'll order take-out,” Blaine soothes, tugging Kurt back to the island.

“Sorry,” David offers. “I didn't mean to --”

“Not your fault,” Kurt sighs. “We did get kind of distracted.”

“If we're going to offer any advice,” Blaine says, trying to salvage the conversation, “I'd say just be yourself. Trust me when I say it makes a difference.”

Kurt smiles appreciatively at him. “Things don't always work out according to plan.”

David doesn't seem entirely convinced but still looks grateful. “I guess... I'll give it a try?”

“Just let things happen naturally,” Blaine encourages.

“Don't force it,” Kurt adds, then seems to realize who he's talking to and backtracks. “Just... don't try so hard.”

Blaine grins. “That sounds familiar.” Kurt smacks him on the chest playfully. “Seriously, though,” Blaine says, addressing David again, “is that -- does that help at all?”

David nods. “Yeah,” he says slowly. “It does. I -- thanks.”

“Anytime,” Blaine says amicably, but it's Kurt who physically reaches out as if to touch the screen; he seems to think better of it after a moment and lets his hand fall to the keyboard. The corner of his mouth turns up a little and he nods in acknowledgment.

The call ends.

They sit in silence for a moment, staring blankly at the empty surface next to the computer, before Blaine tightens his hold around Kurt's waist and ventures, “So take-out? And _then_ distractions.”

Kurt's lips purse in an attempt to fight back a smile. “Distractions?”

“I seem to remember something about you taking my clothes off,” Blaine muses. “And in the privacy of our home...”

Kurt _does_ smile at that, and Blaine knows why; it's because of the way he's just described their shoddy one bedroom apartment that serves as a sufficient shelter while they go to school. Kurt hmms before commenting, “I didn't expect that.”

“Yeah,” Blaine agrees, laughing. “I never thought I'd see the day when David Karofsky would actually want to act on feelings for another guy.” Kurt makes a non-committal noise and Blaine pulls back a little to look at him. “You okay?”

Kurt nods. “Yeah. I just... I never thought I'd see this day either. It's kind of... nice, actually.”

Blaine offers him a small smile but waits a moment before speaking. “So... take-out?”

“Oh my god,” Kurt huffs, shoving him. “You just want to get _laid_.”

“My fiance was checking me out earlier!” Blaine says defensively. “What do you expect from me?”

“Nothing more,” Kurt placates, tugging him in for a kiss. “Nothing less.”


	2. Rare Collections on Shelves

**June 2014: Lima, Ohio**

“See, this is why I live in California,” Santana explains, gesturing at the screen. “The majority of our Supreme Court is made up of women.”

“Normally, I'd argue that point, but since it's politics...”

Santana looks back at the kitchen for a moment before lowering her voice and turning to Blaine again. “This is what he wanted, isn't it?” she asks quietly. “Your dad? He wanted you to go into politics, or to law school or something.”

“For a while,” Blaine admits, matching her volume. “But he's a lot more... relaxed about things now.”

“Only took someone threatening you to do it,” Santana mutters.

“'Tana,” he sighs, “let it go. I have.”

“I'm sorry,” she mumbles, sinking further into the couch. “It's just -- him wanting those things for you, that wasn't just about choosing a career and you know it.”

“No, it wasn't,” Blaine allows, studying her face. “Look, I get it, Santana. I get why it's hard for you to accept that my dad is better about this, but --”

“But he's not my mom,” she says quietly. “You're right. I'm being unfair.”

He reaches out for her hand and turns his attention back to the television. “They're out,” he says. Santana raises an eyebrow at him, Blaine realizes what he's just implied, and they burst out laughing. “Not what I meant,” he sputters.

“Quality, Blainers. You are so quality tonight.”

Blaine smiles at her, eyes darting between her and the screen. “I'm still surprised you're here,” he admits, “instead of back there. If they uphold the repeal and the fundies don't fight to take it the U.S. Supreme Court --”

“I know, I know,” she dismisses with a wave of her hand. “But Brit wanted to be here for her sister's birthday.”

“I know, I just --” Blaine stops and whips his head around to face the television, eyes wide. “Did she just say what I think she said?” Santana doesn't answer him, and together they listen as the woman continues to speak. “She did,” Blaine breathes. “I -- oh my god, Santana. We can get married in California now.”

“I think Kurt would take issue with us getting married,” she deadpans, but the attempt at a joke is half-hearted and Blaine knows she cares more than she's letting on.

“Stop,” he says quietly, scooting closer to her and clasping both of her hands in his now. “Think about what this means, 'Tana.” She arches a questioning eyebrow at him. “It means _you're not wrong._ ”

She blinks, contemplating his words for a moment, and then, “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” Blaine laughs, tugging her into a hug. “Further proof your mom is full of shit.”

“Funny, seeing as how I hate bullshit,” Santana scoffs, and again, she's trying so, so hard not to care, but she's wildly transparent and Blaine knows her better than that.

“Is... everything okay in here?” Mr. Anderson asks tentatively, joining them in the living room.

“Yeah,” Blaine says with a grin, releasing Santana a little. “The California Supreme Court just upheld the repeal of Prop 8. So unless they take it to the U.S. Supreme Court --”

“You can get married in California now,” his father finishes. Blaine can't quite read his father's face as he surveys the two of them sitting there. It's a long, quiet, awkward moment before he adds, “About time.” Santana blinks in surprise at him but she seems to soften to him a little, offering up a small smile. “Are you staying for dinner, Santana?”

“No,” she says with a shake of her head, pushing herself off of the couch. “I promised Brit I'd be at the Pierces' tonight and tomorrow. Her sister's turning eleven and there's a big party. You guys are coming, right?” she checks with Blaine.

“Jamie Lynn said she wanted us there,” Blaine affirms with a grin. “I have a feeling I'm going to be stuck with the cat.”

“Probably,” Santana says, smirking. “You love the cat. Don't deny it.”

“I prefer dogs,” Blaine argues, but he's still grinning and okay, yes, he has a little bit of a soft spot for the cheese-consuming cat.

“How could I forget?” she teases. “This coming from the man who thought I'd brought him a puppy in a _box_.”

“People do it on Christmas morning all of the time!” Blaine protests.

“You watch too many wholesome family films,” Santana notes. “We're going to have to change that.”

“And that is my cue to go back into the kitchen,” Mr. Anderson announces, clearing his throat.

“Don't bother,” Santana laughs. “I'm on my way out.”

“Anything we need to bring tomorrow?” Blaine asks as she hugs him goodbye at the front door.

“Kurt's been instructed to bring his world famous cupcakes,” Santana reminds him. “And you can just bring your lap. For the cat.”

“Easy enough,” Blaine laughs, shutting the door after her. He turns to find his father staring at him; Blaine shifts uncomfortably. “We weren't bothering you, I hope?”

Mr. Anderson shakes his head but still just kind of _stares_ at Blaine. “It's nice to have you home, even if it's only for a week. Your mother and I -- we miss you.”

Blaine relaxes a little. “You can come out to New York,” he reminds his father. “Kurt and I don't really have room to host anyone but --”

“I know. We were thinking Christmas, maybe. To make up for leaving you on your own a few years ago.”

“I... I didn't think you'd remember that,” Blaine admits.

His father leans against the railing of the staircase that leads upstairs, surveying him. “I don't know what I'm supposed to do here, Blaine. I've apologized and I've tried to make up for the time we've lost, but...”

“I -- that's not what I'm looking for,” Blaine cuts in, words rushing out of him. And it feels so awkward, so wrong to be trying to comfort his father like this, to reassure him that he's not bitter, that he's not holding grudges, that he wants this to work as much as his father does. “It's okay.”

His father doesn't seem all that convinced but lets it go. “Is Kurt staying tonight?”

“I'm not sure,” Blaine admits. “He spent the day with his dad. I haven't really gotten the chance to talk to him.”

Mr. Anderson surveys his son for a moment before gesturing at Blaine to follow him. “There's something I want to show you.” Blaine follows his father down the hall and into the home office, watching as his father pulls a leather bound book from the shelf and leans against the edge of his desk. Blaine mimics his position, curious. “Wedding pictures,” he explains, flipping through the pages. “Your mother put this together.”

“How come I've never seen this?” Blaine asks, fingers skirting the laminated pages with his father.

“You never asked,” his father said simply.

“I didn't ask now,” Blaine points out.

His father is quiet for a moment, not meeting Blaine's gaze, before he turns another page and says, “It didn't seem as relevant after you came out.”

“Meaning you didn't think I was ever going to get married,” Blaine clarifies, trying not to sound too bitter.

“Stupid of me to think that,” his father admits, laughing. “Your mother even said so. 'He's a hopeless romantic,' she said. 'He'll still want to get married.' And you did.” He pauses and finally looks up to meet Blaine's eyes. “You do.”

“I'm going to,” Blaine says quietly, fingers flexing against the edge of the desk. “You know -- we told you.”

“No, I know,” his father says quietly. “Your mother's over the moon about it, you know. She keeps hoping you'll set a date soon. I think she's waiting for that before she offers her planning services to your fiance.” Blaine blinks, trying and failing to mask his surprise. “What?”

“It's just -- that's the first time you've called him that,” Blaine points out quietly.

His father's face betrays his hurt for the briefest of seconds, and then he's looking back down at the album. “I'm trying, Blaine.”

“I know. I appreciate it.” His father makes a disbelieving sound but Blaine shakes his head. “No, I do. I -- that year, when you and mom were gone for Christmas, Santana stayed over for a night.” His father looks at him curiously, and Blaine clarifies, “Her mom kicked her out.”

Mr. Anderson arches his eyebrows. “You never told me that.”

“It didn't feel right to, then,” Blaine admits. “It's -- it's still a sore spot for her. And she knew things were tense between us which is why she wasn't all that nice to you when you first met her --”

“I can't win,” his father huffs.

“She's warming to you,” Blaine placates. “I'm just saying that I do appreciate the effort you're making. Because as frustrating as it was to talk to you about my sexuality at times, you never did that to me.”

“I don't understand how anyone could,” his father says, shaking his head. “I -- look, I didn't exactly go about dealing with it the best way. Maybe hoping I could coerce you into being straight was the wrong path to take. But I just wanted you to be safe. I did it because I _do_ care, Blaine.”

“I know,” Blaine says with a warm smile. “I know.” And at last, his father seems to take his words at face value, to understand and accept them. His father smiles back, just a little, and they turn their attention back to the album. “There's no way Kurt will let me get away with that,” he insists, pointing at a picture of his father's face smeared with icing. “He'd _kill_ me.”

“He would,” his father laughs. “I know that much.” He turns a page and pauses, smiling a little more. “That one's my favorite,” he adds, indicating a photograph of him and Lorriane sharing their first dance. “I knew, then.”

“Knew?” Blaine pries, fingers ghosting over the photograph.

“I knew I'd made the right choice,” his father says simply. “I knew I'd always love her.” He looks back up at his son. “You'll have that moment at your wedding,” he promises, “with Kurt. Maybe not this one,” he allows, nodding towards the dancing picture, “but you'll have one.”

Blaine swallows thickly. “Dad, I --” His father looks over at him expectantly but before Blaine can bring himself to speak, there's a _pinging_ sound from his pocket. Flustered, he digs around and unearths his phone, glancing down at the screen. “It's Kurt,” Blaine informs him, fingers skimming over the screen to read the message. His heart stops for a minute and he blanches. “He needs me. I have to go.”

“Is everything okay?” his father asks, setting the album down on the desk and following his son out to the foyer.

“I don't know, he --” There's another ping and Blaine reads the subsequent messages. “He's fine, it's Brittany. I'm not sure what's up, but it sounds important.”

“Go,” his father encourages. “Call if you need anything.”

“Yeah,” Blaine says distractedly. “Thanks, Dad,” he adds, pulling a cardigan over his shirt.

When Blaine arrives at the Hummel-Hudson house, Burt meets him at the front door. “They're upstairs,” he says quietly. “Carole was making her some tea, if you want to take it up to her.”

Blaine rushes into the house and takes the proffered mug from Carole, taking the stairs two at a time and willing himself not to trip. He finds Brittany curled up on the bed with one of Kurt's throw pillows, Kurt's hand resting gently on her knee. “Hey,” he greets carefully, handing the mug to Brittany. “What's going on?”

Kurt draws in a breath, preparing to answer, but Brittany bursts into tears before he can. “'T -- 'Tana,” she stammers.

“Did something happen to her?” Blaine asks quickly, stomach twisting at the thought.

But Kurt shakes his head, Brittany mirroring him. “I was so excited,” Brittany says sadly, “because of what's going on at home, you know?” Blaine settles down on the opposite side of the bed, hand finding her free knee, and he nods, slowly beginning to understand. “And then Santana came back to my parents' house and I just -- I thought...”

Blaine's eyes widen. “Brittany,” he says slowly, “did you ask Santana to marry you?”

It's a moment before Brittany bites her lip and nods, and then she starts to cry even harder. “And s -- sh -- she said _no_.”

“She _what_?” Blaine asks, aghast.

“She said no,” Brittany repeats, hands shaking around the mug. Kurt takes it from her and sets it on the nightstand, wrapping his arms around her. “And then she started talking about how wrong everything was and I -- I think she might've broken up with me.”

“ _What_?” Kurt asks sharply, pulling back a little.

“I don't know,” Brittany says miserably, trying to fall back into Kurt's embrace. “She just left and I -- I didn't know what to do. You said yes to Blaine,” she reasons. “I just... I thought, maybe, if I could understand why --”

“Oh honey,” Kurt says gently, brushing the hair from her eyes. “It's not -- you and Santana, you're different. You're not us.”

“Yes we are,” Brittany argues. “I thought that was the point, that it didn't matter who we loved.”

“No, that's not --” Kurt sighs, rubbing his temple in frustration. “That's not what I meant. I meant that you and Santana have your own special relationship, and Blaine and I have ours. They're not exactly the same. The reasons I said yes to Blaine are not the same reasons Santana would say yes to you.”

“Why not?” she asks simply.

Kurt doesn't seem to have an answer for that once he realizes Brittany's point, but it's Blaine who reacts, Blaine who is up and off of the bed and heading for the door. “Where are you going?” Kurt hisses.

“To find Santana,” Blaine says, digging his keys out of his pocket, “and talk some sense into her.”

“Blaine,” Kurt warns, “that is not a good idea.”

“Yes,” Blaine disagrees fervently, “it is. I -- I _just_ saw her, she was _fine_ ,” he argues. “This is bullshit.”

Kurt starts to rise from the bed -- probably to stop him going -- but Brittany clings to him tightly and he's forced to stay. “Just... try to keep a level head, okay?” Kurt pleads. “Don't do anything impulsive. Don't -- don't say anything you're going to regret.”

Blaine sighs but doesn't respond, taking the steps two at a time again and ignoring Burt and Carole's questioning stares as he bolts out the front door and clambers back into his car. He rests his head against the steering wheel and tries to _breathe_ , tries to think. Where does he start?

It occurs to him in one brief, beautifully blinding moment of clarity, and then the key is in the ignition and he's driving, down South Main, taking East 5th to Cedar, pulling into the driveway and bounding to the front door. “Blaine,” David greets, clearly surprised. “I knew you were in town but I didn't figure I'd see you until PFLAG on Tuesday --”

“Is Santana here?” Blaine cuts in quickly.

“No,” David says slowly, surveying him curiously. “She said she was staying with Brit's family while they were in town.” Blaine sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Did you want to come in?”

“Yeah,” Blaine decides, crossing the threshold. “She'll probably show up soon. I figured this is where she'd go.”

“What's going on?” David asks, turning to lead Blaine into the living room. But before Blaine can answer, there's a click at the front door, the sound of a key turning, and then Santana is stumbling across the the threshold as predicted, purse in hand and -- “Oh my god,” David groans, rushing forward to right her and shut the door behind her. “Santana, how much have you had to drink?”

“I'm fine, I'm fine, off,” she says, snapping at David like he's some irritating, clinging puppy.

“Santana,” Blaine says seriously, “you can't have been alone for more than what, a half hour? Forty-five minutes? How are you this drunk already?”

“Oh, can it, Frisky Pants,” she dismisses, attempting to climb the stairs and wobbling dangerously, her stilettos perched precariously at the edge of each step. David grabs at her arm, preventing her from going any further, and she seems to give up her quest, settling instead for unsteadily pacing the floor of the living room.

“Okay, what the hell is going on?” David asks.

“Santana's being an _idiot_ , that's what going on,” Blaine says angrily.

“Will you stop acting like this is the first time you've seen me drunk?” Santana asks, annoyed.

“Prop 8's repeal got upheld in California,” Blaine informs David, ignoring Santana.

“Yeah, I know, I was watching.”

Blaine fights the pride that swells in his chest and tries to focus. “And Brittany decided it would be a good time to propose.”

“She -- what?” David asks blankly. “That's -- wow. Santana, that's --”

“Santana said no,” Blaine says through gritted teeth, glaring at Santana.

“What? _Why_?”

“Let me remind you, since you both seem to have forgotten, that neither of you are my parent,” Santana snaps. “You don't get to tell me what to do, or what I should do.”

“Why did you say no?” David asks patiently, and really, Blaine has to applaud David because Blaine is so past patience right now; he's just plain _pissed_.

Santana meets his gaze, her eyes shining, but she inhales shakily and shakes her head. “I don't have to justify myself to you. All you need to know is that it wasn't what I wanted.”

“That's the biggest lie I've ever heard,” Blaine protests. “All you've ever wanted was to be with Brittany. I don't get it, Santana. You have never backed down from a fight or run away from anything. Wh --”

“Oh, I'm not allowed to be scared?” she asks, her voice dangerously low. “Are you the only one allowed to do that, to run away? I'm so sorry,” she snaps dryly. “I'll leave that to you -- Blaine Anderson, coward extraordinaire.”

Blaine exhales sharply. “Low blow,” he murmurs.

“Low blow,” David agrees, trying to bring the focus back around. “He's right -- you've always wanted to be with her.”

“No,” Santana disagrees. “I want what you have,” she insists. “I want _freedom._ ”

David's patience finally seems to wear out. “You think I'm _free_?” David scoffs. “I have never felt so... caged.”

Blaine raises an eyebrow at him, distracted, but Santana is adamant, justifying left and right. “Oh don't start with that 'woe is me' crap,” she says shrilly, and it's the first time in ages, years, really, that Blaine has seen them at odds. He knows it's not the alcohol talking. “You _know_ how fucked up my life is, how fucked up it's always been.”

David just stares at her, wide-eyed and disbelieving, before shaking his head disdainfully; he's clearly upset now. “What's so fucked up about having someone who loves you and wants to take care of you and spend the rest of their life with you? Tell me, Santana, honestly, because I don't get it. At all.”

All of the air seems to leave Blaine's body at once and his chest just _aches_. “Luke?” he asks quietly.

“Luke,” David affirms, clenching and unclenching his fists in an effort to control his anger.

“Wait, what?” Santana asks blankly, glancing between them. “Is -- _have you been seeing someone_?”

David sighs and sinks down onto the couch, rubbing his temple with his thumb and his index finger. “Not exactly, no.”

He seems to be at a loss as to how to continue and Blaine realizes that the Luke thing must be _huge_ if David's kept it from Santana; out of the four of them, it's her David's closest to, the most honest with. “Luke's a friend,” Blaine says, trying to be helpful. “And Dave's been trying to figure out exactly how to... change that. Into something more.”

“And you didn't _tell me_?” Santana hisses, sobering up considerably. “You. _Dick_ ,” she chastises, punctuating each word with a firm smack on the arm.

“If anyone has reason to be pissed here, it's me,” David argues, batting her hands away. “Why did you say no to Brittany?”

Santana glares between him and Blaine for a moment, still stony and defensive, but her eyes meet David's again and his words seem to come back to her, haunt her a little. She sighs and sinks down on the coffee table in front of David, staring down at her lap. “I can't,” she says miserably. “Brit -- she deserves better.”

“She wants _you_ ,” Blaine reminds her. “If she still wants to be with you after all this time -- if she wants to _marry you_ , 'Tana -- you must be doing something right. Brit's not stupid, she knows what she wants.”

“She doesn't know what she's getting herself into,” Santana argues, shaking her head violently in an effort to hide the tears she can't stem. And _that's_ the alcohol talking.

“Santana,” David says gently, reaching forward and taking her hands in his. Blaine raises his eyebrows in surprise. Santana looks up at David weakly. “You trust her, don't you?” There's a moment's hesitation, but Santana nods, clutching David's hands a little tighter. “Then trust that she knows what she's doing. Trust that this is what she wants, that _you_ are what she wants. Don't second guess her. Don't doubt her.” He falters for a second and then adds, “You don't have to punish yourself forever.”

Santana climbs into David's lap and cries steadily into his shoulder, but Blaine can't tear his eyes away from David, who is trying and failing not to meet Blaine's gaze. Yeah, what he said counts for Brittany and Santana right now, but Blaine knows, he _knows_ that this is David's way of telling Santana about Luke, of revealing that the attachment is a little stronger than he's letting on. Finally, Santana's tears subside and she lifts her head from David's shoulder. “Will you take me to her?” she pleads at Blaine. “Please. I have to make this right.”

“I would've dragged you kicking and screaming,” Blaine admits, but he hoists her off of the couch and starts to follow her out to the car. “Come with us?” Blaine asks David once Santana's out of earshot. David merely nods, grabbing a jacket from the front closet and following them out to Blaine's car.

It's not until they're back at Burt and Carole's that Blaine gets the itch to speak, to ask a million inappropriate questions, to pry and try to help and just _fix_ things. He has the decency to wait until they're upstairs and letting Santana into Kurt's old bedroom. Blaine gestures for Kurt to join them as Santana rushes forward, throwing her arms around Brittany's neck and whispering, “I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry. I messed up.”

The door clicks as Blaine shuts it behind them. “ _How_?” is all Kurt asks as they all settle down on the stairs, forming awkward vertices of a triangle.

Blaine nods in David's direction but doesn't elaborate further, surveying David's frame before venturing, “You haven't told Luke how you feel, have you?”

Kurt blinks, taken aback, but he turns to look at David, curious; David sighs, shaking his head. “I've thought about it,” he admits. “I've thought of a million different ways to do it. I just... haven't. I can't.”

“We did tell you not to force it,” Kurt reminds him. “These things take time.”

“I don't know if it's time I need,” David says, groaning. “I just -- I can't explain it. I don't know why I can't, I just... I just can't. Every time I think I've worked up the courage to do it, I look at him and he's got that _damn_ smile and I just...” He sighs, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the wall.

“You're worried he doesn't feel the same way,” Kurt says knowingly. “I get that, I really do.”

“Or,” Blaine muses, “you think he doesn't. You think he's got you strictly in friend territory or something --”

“He's -- it's hard to read him,” David admits, toying with a loose thread on his jeans. “He still sees people.”

“Maybe he wouldn't,” Kurt suggests, “if you told him how you felt.”

“Maybe,” David says absently, but he doesn't sound convinced.

“You really, _really_ like him, don't you?” Blaine asks.

It takes David a moment before he allows himself to meet Blaine's gaze, and he doesn't have to say anything at all because it's written in every line, every pore and curve of David's face. “I couldn't let her do it,” he says quietly, nodding up toward Kurt's bedroom. “I couldn't let her just walk away from that.”

Blaine nods, breathing a little easier as Kurt's fingers creep across the stairs and rest on top of his; it's comforting. “You know she's going to kill you,” he reminds David, “when she gets her shit together and news of the engagement isn't so fresh. She's going to kill you for not telling her about Luke.”

David actually _grins_. “I think I can handle her.”

“Yeah,” Blaine laughs, “I think you can.”


	3. Fracture in Front of Me

**March 2015:[Westhampton Beach, New York](http://www.weber-realestate.com/Hamptons-Mansard.asp)**

“Is that him?” Kurt asks from his chair on the desk, sipping his coffee.

“I think so. Who else would be driving out here right now?”

“It's the Hamptons, Blaine,” Kurt says, like that explains everything.

The car pulls into the driveway and the engine cuts off. David climbs out of the driver's side, stretching his arms and legs; he offers them a small wave, moving to pull a large duffel bag from the back seat, when the passenger side door opens and a slim, blonde figure emerges. “No way,” Blaine says lowly, setting his mug down on the small wooden table between them.

“Is that _Luke_?” Kurt gasps, setting down his own mug.

“That is _so_ Luke,” Blaine affirms, recognizing the man from the photograph.

“Dave didn't say he was coming!” Kurt says indignantly, rising from his chair with Blaine to greet them.

“Who cares about that?” Blaine hisses, plastering a smile on as the pair start to walk toward the deck. “What I want to know is what this _means_. Do you think he finally told him how he felt?”

“Shh, they'll hear you,” Kurt hisses back. “Hi!” he says brightly as they make their way up the stairs. “This is a surprise!”

Luke falters a little as he shakes Kurt's hand, and then Blaine's, and he looks to David questioningly. “My bad,” David apologizes, holding up a hand. “It was kind of last minute. Luke's plans for spring break fell through and he didn't want me making a twenty hour drive on my own and then he offered to pitch in for the place and I just thought --”

“It's fine,” Blaine assures him. “We're just... surprised, is all. And the guest house only has three bedrooms --”

“I can take the couch,” David offers quickly.

“No, that's silly,” Luke protests. “I was the last minute addition, I can take the couch.”

“I'm pretty sure the bed's big enough for the both of you, unless one of you likes to take up a lot of room when you sleep.” Blaine glares at Kurt because really, so not a good suggestion. It's obvious that David hasn't told Luke how he feels and there's an obvious discomfort with the idea of sharing a bed.

But Luke just grins at David, elbowing him. “I'm totally a blanket hog.”

“I'm a human furnace,” David throws back, laughing, but Blaine can see him blushing. “Where are the girls?”

“Swimming --” Kurt starts to explain, but a voice interrupts him.

“Here,” Santana says, toweling her hair dry and stumbling across the sand into Brittany's shoulder. “Who's your friend, Dave?” she asks with a wicked grin.

Luke stretches out a hand to her, beaming. “Luke Barnes. You must be Santana.”

“Been talking about me, I see,” Santana teases, shoving David's shoulder playfully.

“Which means you must be Brittany,” Luke continues, taking her hand. “Prettier than the pictures.” Brittany blushes. “And I've already met KurtandBlaine.”

“What are we, a unit or something?” Blaine asks with a laugh.

“Attached at the hip, from what David tells me,” Luke explains. “High school sweethearts getting married soon and all. Well, that's true for all of you, I guess,” he amends, smiling at the girls.

“Here,” Kurt offers, taking the bag from David's hand. “I'll show Luke to your guys' room.”

Once they're out of earshot, Santana _pounces_ on David. “He is sex on legs,” she drawls. “You didn't tell me he was so _hot_.”

“I didn't know you were bringing a friend,” Brittany cuts in.

“It was last minute, Brit, I'm sorry,” David apologizes, shifting uncomfortably. “He's willing to help pay for the rental this week, though.”

“Besides, this is good,” Santana says brightly, walking with the group into the house. “Now Auntie 'Tana can help you get your ass laid --”

“Santana, stop!” David protests, coloring.

“Wait,” Brittany says, stopping in the hallway and staring at David wide-eyed. “You _like_ him?”

Blaine arches an eyebrow at Santana. “You didn't tell her?”

Santana doesn't answer; she and Blaine watch as an obvious tension hangs between Brittany and David. Finally, David breaks the silence with, “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Brittany actually _smiles_ at him. “That's better.” She grabs Santana by the hand and tugs her toward one of the bathrooms. “Come on, I want to shower before dinner. I've got sand in my hair.”

“...The girls flew in and drove out here with us,” Kurt is explaining as he and Luke rejoin Blaine and David in the living room. “It was nice of you to drive up with David,” he adds as an afterthought.

“I hated the thought of him driving this far alone,” Luke admits sheepishly. “He pushes himself too hard. I've seen him at Seminoles practice, he's a beast. He just doesn't quit until he passes out. Add cars into that equation and --”

“Not a good idea,” Kurt laughs. “Yeah, got it.”

“I got him to take naps in the car, though!” Luke says proudly. “He snored and everything. It was adorable.”

“I hate you,” David grumbles, settling onto one of the chairs on the deck.

“No, you don't,” Luke teases, grinning.

David meets his gaze and flushes again, unable to fight back his own smile at the sight of Luke's. “No,” he agrees, “I don't.” Blaine glances over at Kurt, who grins, and then David clears his throat. “Please tell me there's a plan for dinner because I'm _starving_.”

“Burgers,” Blaine announces. “Actually, I should probably start on those, if the girls are already in the shower.”

“Want some help?” David offers.

“Sure,” Blaine agrees with a smile. He glances over his shoulder as they make their way to the kitchen, watching Kurt and Luke settle down into chairs; it's still sort of striking how much Luke looks like Sam, or even how much Luke looks like Kurt, a little. But David was right, Blaine decides, that Luke really isn't anything like either of them, at least not so far. In the kitchen, he and David work in relative silence for a while, the room filling with sizzling sounds and delicious smells. Finally, he casually ventures, “So you guys seem like you're good friends.”

“Anderson, just... don't, okay?” David groans, setting a knife down on the cutting board. “Yeah, we've been friends for two and a half years. Yeah, I've been into him for just as long. Can we just... not talk about the fact that I don't have the balls to tell him that? Not now.”

“That's... not what I was going for,” Blaine says hesitantly. “I just meant that I can see why you like him. You seem comfortable with him. It seems... easy.”

What David's response to that would have been, Blaine will never know, because the girls saunter into the kitchen then, clean and smelling like soap and smiling. “Food!” Brittany says happily, grabbing herself a plate.

The four of them join Kurt and Luke back out on the deck, settling into chairs as dusk settles on the beach. “Luke's from Chicago,” Kurt informs them, taking his plate from Blaine.

“Really?” Brittany asks, wiping her hands on a napkin. “I did some choreography work there right before Christmas for a production of _Chicago_.”

“I saw that!” Luke exclaims. “When I was in town visiting my mom. It was brilliant, Brittany.”

“Here's yours,” David offers, handing Luke his plate. “No mayo or pickles, I didn't know if you wanted cheese or not, though.”

Blaine exchanges a look with Kurt and Santana as silence settles over the group and Luke just stares up at David before the latter takes his seat uncomfortably. “That's... fine. How'd you know about the pickles?”

“I -- you never order them,” David justifies, flushing. “Whenever we go out, you never ask for pickles, and if they come with it, you pick them off.”

Santana opens her mouth and Blaine knows she can't resist, but Kurt kicks at her ankle to quiet her. “So,” Kurt says loudly in a blatantly obvious attempt to break the tension, “David tells us you're a journalism major, Luke.”

Luke blinks and turns to Kurt -- David takes the opportunity to mouth 'thank you' at Kurt -- but smiles politely and nods. “Yeah. That's not how I met this guy, though,” he says with a grin, nudging David's knee with his own. “We met --”

“At a PFLAG meeting,” Blaine says before he can stop himself. Kurt glares at him.

“Really?” Santana asks interestedly. “So when you guys go out, do you go after the same types, or --”

“Santana,” Blaine chastises, “seriously.”

“No, it's fine,” Luke laughs. “I -- it depends on your definition of going 'out,' I guess. I practically have to twist his arm to get him to come out to bars or clubs with me, and I've only gotten him to dance once and I don't even really remember it --”

“You went _dancing_?” Kurt asks, gaping.

“Once,” David says awkwardly. “I'm not exactly known for my moves off the field.”

“You're actually a good dancer,” Brittany offers, and the entire group turns to look at her. “When we performed at the football game junior year, you were actually kind of good.”

“Yeah,” Santana tacks on, grinning at her fiance. “I mean, I'd know, I took this guy to prom-”

“Wait, what?” Luke asks with a laugh, turning to David, who glares at Santana but doesn't actually seem all that angry.

“Oh,” Santana drawls happily. “So you haven't told him _that_ much about me, then.”

“You're regretting this, aren't you?” Luke asks David, grinning. “You're regretting bringing me because now your friends are going to expose all of your dirty little secrets.”

The corner of David's mouth turns up a little. “Not regretting it just yet.”

“We weren't exactly... ready to be out,” Santana says vaguely.

“So, what,” Luke asks, “you bearded for each other and went to junior prom?”

“Basically,” David laughs.

“Huh,” Luke says, settling into his chair a little more. “That's interesting.”

“Anyway,” David says, trying to change the subject, “it's not like you're lacking in dance partners when you do get me to go out.”

Luke cocks an eyebrow at him and Blaine watches with interest; they don't seem angry or annoyed with each other, but there's something... off. Clearly, there's new information coming out and David's last comment could almost be taken as... bitter. But Luke doesn't know, he doesn't know how David feels and Blaine gets that, he gets that as he watches Luke's face, trying to figure out David's implied meaning behind the statement.

And then Blaine watches as Luke leans forward, reaches out his thumb, and runs it down the corner of David's mouth. Blaine can almost _feel_ David's heart stop beating. “Mustard,” Luke says quietly, grinning.

David blinks and exhales shakily, smiling uneasily. “Thanks.”

“We're gonna stay in the city for a day or two before flying back home,” Brittany says. “Maybe you can come with us and we can all go dancing then.”

Luke raises an eyebrow at David, who just laughs and shakes his head. “Maybe.”

The night passes on a little easier after that, mostly laughter and smiles and silly stories exchanged. Kurt unearths his sketchbook after a while, going over last minute wedding gown changes with the girls. They turn in early, around ten, because it's essentially been a long day of traveling and they're probably going to spend the entire day on the beach tomorrow, out in the sun and in the surf.

It's early, around five, when Blaine wakes up rather suddenly, footsteps echoing down the hallway outside of the room he and Kurt are sharing. The footsteps are too heavy to be either of the girls; Blaine's curiosity gets the better of him and he slowly extracts himself out from Kurt's embrace, throwing on a pair of flannel pajama pants and padding quietly down the hall.

It takes Blaine a moment recognize the figure leaning over the railing on the porch as David, alone and quiet and unsuspecting. “Can't sleep?” Blaine asks as he joins him, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

David -- wearing a pair of sweatpants and an FSU hoodie -- doesn't even glance sideways at him. “Didn't sleep. All night.”

“Too awkward with Luke there?” Blaine guesses.

David's shoulders fall a little. “I just... couldn't stop thinking about the fact that he's shared a bed with other guys before. Lots of other guys. And they weren't just sleeping. He wasn't even _facing_ me, Anderson.”

Blaine's heart drops out a little. He almost doesn't remember what it's like not to sleep with Kurt, not to be intimate with Kurt, not to _be_ with Kurt. They've been fused together for so long that yeah, maybe they are sort of attached at the hip and more one person than two now. But it makes Blaine's day sometimes to know that when he goes to bed at night, the last thing he's going to hear is Kurt saying _I love you_ , the last thing he's going to feel is the smooth skin of Kurt's chest pressed against his cheek, the first thing he's going to feel when he wakes up is Kurt's cock pressed against his thigh, always wanting, always wanting _Blaine_.

“I want what you have,” David sighs; he bends over slightly and rests his arms on the railing. “But I'm never gonna have the courage to make the first move. I can't -- I just... can't.”

“Why?” Blaine asks, turning and resting his back against the fence. “Why not?”

It takes David a minute to answer. “Because... fuck, I don't know,” he sighs. “Because when we're alone, everything is fine and I feel like he gets me and I love that I can make him smile.”

“And when you're not alone?” Blaine prompts.

“I feel invisible again,” David admits quietly. “I feel like he looks right through me and... You should see the guys he dates. He doesn't even date them, not really. They just... they look at him like... like he's a piece of _meat_ or something. It's disgusting.”

“And you're not in it for the sex,” Blaine says slowly, trying to keep up. It's almost too early to do this.

David hesitates. “I'm not a virgin,” he says slowly. Blaine raises an eyebrow and David rushes to explain. “Okay, look, you know I had a hard time dealing with this.”

“With your sexuality.”

“Yeah. I just... Look, I dated a few girls. Nothing serious, but we had sex. Santana knew that when she suggested we beard for each other.”

“How'd that work out for you?” Blaine asks.

David shrugs. “Fine during. But I wasn't all that... interested.”

“Clearly,” Blaine says with a smirk. David rolls his eyes. “But you've never been with another guy.”

“No,” David admits.

“So, still sort of a virgin, then?”

David groans. “That's not even what this is about.”

“That's my point,” Blaine explains. “That's why it upsets you when Luke fucks around -- don't look at me like that, that's exactly what he's doing. Every other guy looks at him like -- what'd you say? Like he's a piece of meat? -- and you don't. You see him for more than that.”

“He _is_ more than that,” David insists, resting his head on top of the railing, closing his eyes in frustration.

“I know,” Blaine says gently. He takes a minute to just _look_ at David, the curve of his back as he's hunched over and the way his fingers hang limp over the railing. There's something about him, in this moment, that reminds Blaine of himself, lying broken and battered on the ground, the loser in a game he didn't want to play. But there's something else that reminds Blaine of himself happier, better; David looks as if the life has been kicked out of him, yeah, but he also just looks sort of winded, as if life is slowly and suddenly being breathed into him. It reminds Blaine of _Blackbird_ , and feeling like he was seeing Kurt for the first time. “You're in love with him, aren't you?” David doesn't answer, but Blaine thinks he knows. “It's -- he's more than just your friend. This isn't just a crush. _You're in love with him_.” David whines, actually whines, and Blaine groans. “Oh Jesus...”

“He deserves so much more than what he lets himself have,” David says earnestly. “I just -- you don't know him like I do. Yeah, he's attractive --”

“Sex on legs is the phrase 'Tana used, I think,” Blaine interjects.

“Okay, yeah, he's hot,” David concedes, waving him off.

“And funny,” Blaine adds thoughtfully. “He had us all in hysterics last night.”

“I know.”

“And he seems to really care about you.”

“ _I know_.” David glances over at him, waiting for another interruption, but Blaine mimes zipping his lips shut. “He has all of these ideas about what he wants to do as a journalist, and he loves his mom more than anyone, and he can't tell the difference between a false start and being off sides, and --”

“And you're kind of ridiculously in love with him,” Blaine finishes, grinning at him.

“He's never gonna see me that way,” David insists. “And I'm never gonna tell him any of this --”

“But you still didn't really say why,” Blaine argues, tilting his head to the side and surveying David thoughtfully.

“He deserves better,” David says, and that doesn't make sense to Blaine, not at all, until...

Until it does.

Luke doesn't just deserve better than what he's been settling for. That's not the point David's trying to make, Blaine finally understands. David thinks Luke deserves better than him. And that, Blaine realizes, is the crushing blow, the brake that's putting this whole thing to a stop. David, for all of the progress he's made, for the person he's grown and matured into, for the skin that he finally feels comfortable in, David still feels like he's sixteen. He's still carrying around the person who turned inward and took his fear out on anyone who made him think about it.

Kurt.

David won't go after Luke because of Kurt, not because David's still attracted to Kurt, that's not it at all. David doesn't feel like he deserves Luke because of what he did to Kurt. He practically threw himself at Kurt, fists and lips and everything in between, and Kurt rejected him in ways Blaine didn't even realize were all that damaging until now. David wasn't Kurt's _type_ , Kurt had said. He'd gone so far as to insult David on multiple occasions, attacking his character and his body and his insecurities. And then he'd brought in Blaine, Blaine who was -- who _is_ so strikingly different from David, was everything Kurt was looking for. Kurt brought in Blaine and basically shoved him in David's face, and...

Well, Blaine doesn't exactly blame David for wanting to shove back. He doesn't blame Kurt, but he thinks he understands what David must've been thinking, feeling. “Hey,” Blaine says gently, resting a hand on David's shoulder. David looks over at him, eyebrows raised but eyes sunken in, hollow, distant, and Blaine breaks a little. “You don't have to punish yourself forever, David.”

It's that, those simple words David had said to Santana last summer, that breaks David. He finally looks uncomfortable for the first time since Blaine joined him, before the sun was even fully up. “I'm gonna go for a run,” he says abruptly, nodding toward the beach. Blaine sighs and turns, watching as David's body sinks into the sand with each step, and slowly, he becomes little more than a blur on the horizon. Blaine settles into one of the deck chairs and sighs, closing his eyes and letting the sun warm his skin. He's not going to sleep again.

“Hey.” Blaine's eyes snap open a little while later, focusing on Luke's wiry frame standing next to him. Luke rubs his eyes sleepily and glances around the deck, searching. “Where's David?”

Blaine nods toward the beach. “Out for a run.” Luke nods and yawns, sinking down into the chair next to Blaine. “Not a morning person?” Blaine laughs.

“No,” Luke grumbles, legs stretched out in front of him. “I'm normally a 2 a.m. to 9 a.m. sleeper, sometimes later.”

“So no 8 a.m. classes, then?” Blaine asks with a grin.

“Never,” Luke groans, throwing an arm over his eyes. “I don't know how David does it. He gets up early and goes to the gym and then has classes all day, and then practice, and then homework. And somehow he manages to pick up shifts at the campus bookstore and go to PFLAG meetings and hang out with me. He's like Superman or something.”

“Even Superman has kryptonite,” Blaine points out. He neglects to mention that Luke is probably the kryptonite in this situation. Luke just makes a disbelieving noise, and Blaine bites his lip, debating. “David said you weren't seeing anyone,” he says slowly. “Well, not seriously, anyway.”

Luke removes his arm and looks over at Blaine, cocking an eyebrow. “You're getting married.”

“Oh,” Blaine laughs, blushing. “Yeah, I am, but it's -- I'm not hitting on you. I just -- I was curious, that's all. Last night... well, David just made it seem like there was a lot of interest. And yet you don't have a boyfriend. Is that by choice, or...?”

Luke looks at him curiously before returning back to his previous position, arm flopped over his eyes to block out the rising sun. “David sees what he wants, I think. He sees guys interested, but they're not interested in me.”

“Um,” Blaine starts, brow furrowing.

“Okay, let me elaborate,” Luke sighs. “They're not interested in anything other than sex.”

Blaine hesitates, and then says, “I can't tell if that bothers you or not. You sound like it does, but...”

Luke removes his arm but doesn't meet Blaine's gaze. “I'm used to it,” he shrugs. “I'm a realist. I'm not looking for some fairytale romance -- no offense to you guys -- but it's not in the cards for me.”

“So what,” Blaine asks, a little harshly, “you just... sleep around? And you're okay with that? It doesn't bother you? At all?”

Luke finally turns to look at him, eyes narrowed. “I think it's a little early for you to be judging me, isn't it?”

“I'm not --” Blaine says defensively.

“Plus,” Luke continues, ignoring him, “you haven't really tried it. You've only ever been with Kurt -- which, I'm not knocking that, it's great, what you guys have. I can see that even after just last night. But I don't think what I do is as bad as you think it is.”

“You haven't really tried being in a real relationship,” Blaine counters.

The corner of Luke's mouth twitches. “Why are you so interested?”

Blaine shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant. “I don't know. You and David just seem like... like good friends. It's obvious that he cares about you. As his friend, I guess I'm just trying to do that too, especially if you're going to be around for a while.”

Luke smiles at him a little. “David did say you were a people pleaser.”

Blaine frowns. “I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult.”

“A little of both,” Luke teases, shoving his shoulder playfully. He seems to soften a little, and then adds, “We are friends -- David and I. He's -- look, he's probably the only real relationship I have, okay? I have working relationships with people at FS View, and I'm really close to my mom-” Blaine grins at that. “-- but it's not... easy for me to get attached to people. I have more acquaintances than friends. I have more hook-ups than actual boyfriends. I don't -- I don't trust easily. It's kind of hard to do that when no one really gives you a good reason to.”

“But David does?” Blaine prompts gently.

Luke smiles. “He actually listens to me. I mean, last night, the pickles thing? That might not have seemed like a big deal, but it was, at least for me. I've gone out with guys repeatedly and I'll tell them things straight off -- like, I'm allergic to shellfish. And they'll still order it for me if we got out for dates after.”

A warmth floods Blaine's chest. “I think it's the same for him,” Blaine says carefully. “Back home, he didn't -- he sort of lost a lot of his friends after he was outed. I think it did things to him. We were kind of all he had for a while.”

“He's mentioned it,” Luke says. “He doesn't -- he doesn't like to talk about it a lot, what it was like for him back in high school. He's much more of a 'in the moment' kind of guy. You don't agree?” he asks, sensing Blaine's hesitation.

“I'm just saying maybe you aren't the only one with trust issues,” Blaine says vaguely.

Luke's face wrinkles a little; he's obviously working Blaine's words over in his mind, but all he says is, “I'd rather sleep around and have someone like him be my friend than go looking for a boyfriend somewhere else.”

Blaine has to bite his lip _hard_ to keep from commenting.

“Hey.” Both men look up to find David climbing the porch stairs, face and hoodie drenched in sweat. He looks happier than he did an hour ago, face brighter and muscles much more relaxed. “I'm surprised you're up,” he laughs, nodding at Luke.

“You disappeared,” Luke whines as David sinks onto a long bench opposite them.

“Sorry, I need a run. Needed to clear my head,” David explains, trying to catch his breath.

“Hmm,” Luke buzzes, pushing himself from his chair and clambering over to the bench David's lounging on. “Well thank god you're back because I am in desperate need of a pillow. My body is not made to be up this early.”

“Don't,” David groans, pushing him away a little. “I'm sweaty and gross and need a shower --”

“Don't care,” Luke mumbles, curling up into David's side sleepily. “You're a pillow. Deal with it.”

David's discomfort is obvious as he sits there, arms hanging in the air precariously, unsure of what to do with them. He looks to Blaine for help, who merely raises his eyebrows, and then slowly lowers his arms, letting one curl around Luke's shoulders.

“Ahem.” Luke doesn't react but David and Blaine look back to see Kurt standing in the doorway, watching them with raised eyebrows. “Coffee?”

David blushes but nods, and Blaine laughs. “Yeah, I'll help you.”

“What was _that_?” Kurt asks with interest as he pulls out coffee beans.

“I don't even know where to begin,” Blaine sighs. “There is _so much_ to tell you --”

“Reader's Digest version, then,” Kurt says with a grin.

“They're friends,” Blaine states firmly. “They're friends and David is crazy about him and I can't get a read on Luke at all --”

“Dave did say he was hard to read,” Kurt reminds him, hitting the 'on' button on the coffee maker.

“Yeah, but this is just... aggravating. They both have such _issues_ but they're kind of... perfect for each other.”

“Really?” Kurt asks softly.

“Yeah,” Blaine huffs out, resting his forehead against Kurt's shoulder. “And I don't know that they're ever going to get anywhere. Trust issues and...”

“And?” Kurt prompts, pushing Blaine off of his shoulder to meet his eyes.

“And I think they're afraid to let themselves be happy,” Blaine says honestly. “And I don't get that. I mean, I realized you made me happy and that was all I wanted. I don't get why it doesn't work that way for them.”

“Because not everyone is as fortunate as you, Blainers,” Santana says sweetly as she and Brittany join them in the kitchen.

“I'm so sick of that,” Blaine complains. “Everyone thinks that our relationship is perfect and that we don't have any of our own demons to face and it's just not true.”

“Hey,” Santana says gently, wrapping him up in a hug. “I know.” She pulls back and smile a little at him. “But you guys know how to make a relationship work. That's the point. You know how to make it a lot easier, a lot less painful than it has to be sometimes. And people envy that. I did,” she admits.

“People want to be happy,” Brittany explains. “You're happy.” Kurt smiles at her.

Santana hops up onto the kitchen island, legs dangling off the side, and accepts the cup of coffee Kurt hands her. “Boy is _whipped_ , isn't he?” she asks.

“I think it's fairly obvious,” Kurt laughs, handing a mug to Brittany.

“He really likes him?” Brittany questions, staring down at her steaming mug.

“Yeah,” Blaine says softly. “He really, really does.”

“Maybe we should invite him to our wedding this summer,” she suggests, glancing up at Santana.

“We just met him, Brit,” Santana laughs.

“I know,” Brittany says, shrugging her shoulders. “But we're letting people bring dates, right? And he's going to be here all week, so we'll get to know him better.”

“There's more,” Santana prompts, nudging her fiance with her leg. “What are you thinking, Brit-Brit?”

“Last night,” Brittany says slowly, “Dave said Luke had a lot of dance partners.”

“Meaning he fucks around a lot,” Santana clarifies without preamble.

“We've been there, 'Tana,” Brittany says imploringly. “We slept with like, half of the school before I dated Artie, and then when you and I decided to be exclusive...”

“What's your point, Brittany?” Kurt asks.

“We're getting married,” she says simply. “Me and 'Tana, you and Blaine. And we didn't get together the same ways but we're getting married and we're happy. If he comes to our wedding, maybe he'll want it the same way Dave does.”

All three of them smile affectionately at her, and Santana hugs her close. “That,” Santana says brightly, “is a great idea.”

“Oh god,” Kurt laughs, burying his face in Blaine's chest. “Are we seriously trying to play matchmaker here?”

“Oh, live a little,” Santana says dismissively. “He's been a fifth wheel a long time.”


	4. Breathe Air From the Salty Sea

**July 2015: Santa Monica, California**

Blaine glances around at the rest of the guests from his front row seat, eyes scanning the crowd for familiar faces. Brittany's parents and Jamie Lynn (twelve, now) share the front row with him. The rest of New Directions are scattered through the crowd, there, Blaine knows, more at the request of Brittany than Santana or anyone else. Artie's closest to the front in his wheelchair, Quinn a few rows back. Somewhere in the middle are Mike and Tina on opposite ends of the yard; they've been broken up for a year and a half but as Blaine's eyes fall over the small crowd, he notices that their eyes keep finding each other, and Blaine dares to hope a little.

As Kurt comes rushing in to sit next to him, breathless, Blaine's eyes find Luke's at the edge of the row; they exchange a smile. “Sorry,” Kurt rushes out, adjusting his tie and then Blaine's. “Last minute touch-ups on the dresses; it could've been a disaster.”

“In your hands? Never,” Blaine says with a grin.

“I can't wait to see them,” Luke enthuses, leaning toward them. “The sketches looked amazing.”

“They look _breathtaking_ ,” Kurt insists. “The dresses, yes, but the girls... Seriously. Santana didn't even look this good at prom.”

“Here we go,” Blaine whispers, rising from his seat. “Who's coming out first, do we know?”

He gets his answer as Brittany's father leads her down the aisle, and Kurt was right, Blaine is _winded_ at how stunning Brittany looks. She's beaming, radiant and beautiful and just so _happy_ , and when she kisses her father's seat at the front of the crowd, Kurt reaches for Blaine's hand in an effort not to cry.

Blaine turns again to watch Santana walk past the crowd this time, and it's with a pain in his gut that he realizes she has no one to walk her down the aisle, no one to give her away, no one to say, _Here she is; take good care of her._

But he's wrong. He's so, so wrong because Santana's beauty sweeps over the crowd in the most subtle way Blaine's ever seen, not overstated or flashy or loud at all. And at her side, linked on her arm, is David. Blaine grips Kurt's hand a little tighter and reaches out for the back of his chair with the other. David doesn't have eyes for anyone but Santana in that moment, and she, in turn, only has eyes for Brittany. And the memory washes over Blaine like a giant, cascading wave; he remembers brushing thighs and elbows with his father, fingers tracing over faded photographs, and a promise: _You'll have that moment..._

Santana's having hers now.

_This_ is the Santana Blaine recognizes, the one who walks around with a quiet confidence and isn't concerned with what anyone else thinks, the one who is willing to stretch out a hand to someone just as lost as she is, the one who is sure, so sure that she loves this woman.

_I knew I'd made the right choice, then. I knew I'd always love her._

As Santana reaches for Brittany's hand and everyone takes their seats again -- David settling down between Luke and Kurt -- Blaine leans over and presses his lips to Kurt's ear. “I can't wait to be married to you,” he breathes. Kurt clutches his hand a little more tightly.

There are vows and tears and kisses and applause, and then the chairs are being moved and Brittany is spinning in dizzying circles in the middle of the wooden platform, arms above her head. There's a amplified cracking sound as Blaine settles back into a chair at one of the tables, watching as Kurt climbs onto the small stage and steps up to the microphone. He glances back at a man in glasses at the piano (is that _Brad_?) and [a soft melody starts to play](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LLoyNxjhTzc&ob=av2n%E2%80%9D).

Brittany pulls Santana out with her and immediately hooks her chin over Santana's shoulder, swaying slowly. And Santana, Santana just smiles, glancing over Brittany's shoulder at Blaine as David and Luke come to take seats next to him.

“ _I'd go hungry. I'd go black and blue. I'd go crawling down the avenue. No there's nothing that I wouldn't do to make you feel my love._ ”

Blaine doesn't let his gaze leave Santana and it strikes him, then, how appropriate this song is for them. Santana has given up everything, quite literally everything, to be with Brittany. She's given up a family, a home, a safety net. She's given up fears and freedom and Ohio, men and the hollow shell of a person she'd presented to the world for so long. But she's _gained_ so much since then. Brittany's family is her family. New Directions is her family, each chapter of PFLAG in Ohio and California, Kurt and Blaine and David and maybe even Luke, they're all her family now, a safe place to land. She shares a home with Brittany. She was never a coward, but she's not afraid anymore. And here, at the edge of the Pacific, she's more free than she's ever been. She's come a long way from the girl who begrudgingly attended PFLAG meetings, arms and legs crossed to guard her heart.

“ _The storms are raging on the rolling sea and on the highway of regret. Though winds of change are blowing wild and free, you ain't seen nothing like me yet._ ”

It's then that Blaine tears his gaze away and his eyes find Kurt again, voice quiet and confident and controlled but chock full of emotion. _You move me._ Blaine smiles softly at him, and between lines, the breath Kurt takes is a little louder than normal.

As the piano grows quieter, Brittany spins Santana around in the same dizzying circles, Santana's laughter ringing out through the yard. The band starts to play a new song, much more up-tempo, and Kurt changes places with Mercedes and Tina as he makes his way to Blaine. “Dance with me?” he asks, eyes glittering.

Blaine grins and takes Kurt's proffered hand, allowing himself to be tugged out onto the slowly crowding floor, bodies jumping and twirling in confined spaces. It's not quite the same unrestrained, sweaty mess that prom was four years ago; they've all grown up a bit, aged a few years, but they're still sporting smart tuxes and dresses and are dancing in a happy, carefree manner. Here, there's no fear of leaving bloodied and bruised. The ocean washes them clean.

Glee is about opening yourself up to joy.

The tempo slows again and Quinn, surprisingly, takes the stage. Blaine takes Kurt by the hand and tugs him close. “It's nice to finally dance with you like this,” he admits quietly.

Kurt smiles at him but he glances sideways to the outskirts of the crowd, to the table where David and Luke are still sitting, conversing quietly. David isn't meeting Luke's intent gaze as he talks, and there's something about the scene that tugs at Blaine's gut. “He's come so far since then,” Kurt remarks fondly.

“We all have.” Kurt turns to look at him again, still moving in slow, lazy circles with Blaine across the dance floor. “You seem so much more relaxed, now. I thought you were going to break my hand at prom.”

“Could you blame me?” Kurt asks wryly. “The way everyone was _staring_ at us?”

“I know,” Blaine says quietly. “I was... terrified. I saw you looking at them and had to force myself to work past it.” He presses his cheek to Kurt's before adding, “I knew, then.”

“You knew what?” Kurt laughs.

“I knew I loved you,” Blaine says simply.

Kurt pulls away and just _looks_ at Blaine for a moment, eyes shining. “You always have to be Prince Charming, don't you?” Kurt teases lightly, but Blaine can hear the emotion in his voice.

“I thought you were the one who got the crown that night,” Blaine teases back. “Besides, you saved me, remember? Knight in shining armor and all that --”

“Nauseating,” Santana quips as she and Brittany spin past them. “My wedding, my rules. Do not make me hurl, you two. I still have to eat cake.”

Blaine laughs as they twirl away, and Kurt can't help grinning. “What do you think they're talking about?” he asks, nodding back toward David and Luke.

“I don't know,” Blaine admits, spinning Kurt around quickly to get a better look at them; Kurt starts laughing, heading falling to Blaine's shoulder. Blaine warms at the closeness, immediately craving more, but he tries to focus on the two men sitting across the yard. “It looks serious, though.”

“Hmm,” Kurt buzzes, laughs tapering off. “Don't tell me you think Dave's suddenly decided to tell Luke how he feels.”

“No,” Blaine says. “I don't. But... well, look at them.”

Kurt pulls away and watches with Blaine as they sway slowly. David is _still_ refusing to meet Luke's gaze but he's done talking; Luke stares at his friend thoughtfully for a long moment before scooting his chair closer and moving his hand to rest warmly on top of David's. David looks up, startled. “Oh,” Kurt breathes. “I -- maybe he _did_ , Blaine.”

But Blaine shakes his head because, no, that's not what this looks like, not what it feels like. His gut is telling him that this is something else. David's eyebrows arch, questioning, but Luke smiles, nodding encouragingly, and after a moment, David pushes himself to his feet, brushing off his pants.

Blaine's not prepared for it when David makes his way over to them, standing awkwardly between them and another couple dancing close by (is that Finn and _Lauren_? Blaine can't even be bothered to double check). Kurt stops dancing and offers a hesitant smile, eyes questioning, and Blaine just _stares_ at him because he thinks he knows what's about to happen but the seventeen year old in him doesn't believe it, not for a second. “Mind if I cut in?” he asks Blaine awkwardly. Kurt blinks in surprise and Blaine's eyes widen but he doesn't say anything, not yet. David turns to Kurt. “I think I owe you a dance,” he says quietly, almost as if...

Almost as if he's apologizing.

Blaine looks to Kurt, fighting to keep his face blank and unbiased, wanting this, needing this to be Kurt's decision. It takes a second, but Kurt softens almost imperceptibly and he nods, squeezing Blaine's hand before letting go, moving toward David. “It's not ABBA,” he sighs, “but it'll do.”

Blaine laughs, actually laughs and reaches up to clap David on the shoulder as he weaves through the rest of the couples on the dance floor; he passes Brittany and Santana not far off and exchanges a smile with Brittany, who is _beaming_ proudly at David's back. Blaine takes David's vacant seat and settles in next to Luke. “I take it that was your doing?”

Luke shrugs sheepishly. “It was the right thing to do.”

“You said... Back in March, you said David didn't like to talk about what it was like for him in high school,” Blaine says carefully. “There are a lot of reminders of that here. Does -- is it making him uncomfortable?”

“Not really?” Luke answers with a sigh. “It was more seeing you out there with Kurt than anything, I think.” He pauses, and then says, very quietly, “He told me, you know. About what he did to Kurt.”

Blaine glances over at him, cocking an eyebrow. “Just now?”

Luke nods. “About the bullying, the locker shoves and dumpster tosses and slushie facials and...” Luke seems hesitant to say more but Blaine knows what's being left unsaid: _the kiss_. “And then he told me about prom and how _bad_ he felt about leaving Kurt out there, that he just wasn't ready and how you stepped in...” Luke sighs and shakes his head. “Your lives are like a regular soap opera, you know that?”

Blaine laughs. “Believe it or not, we're actually pretty tame compared to the rest of our friends from high school. Finn and Rachel? They've broken up and gotten back together so many times in the last six years that I think we've actually lost count. I stopped counting after the eighth time.”

“Oh jeez,” Luke huffs out, laughing with Blaine. He bites his lip after a minute, though, and then adds, “It's just- it's the most honest he's ever been with me, you know? I knew it took a lot for him to tell me that. And I hated to see him --”

“-- punish himself like that, yeah,” Blaine finishes, eyes brightening a little. “You think it'll help?” he asks, nodding toward the spot on the dance floor where Santana and Brittany have sidled up to Kurt and David, all three of them trying desperately to get David to actually move when the song switches to something more up-tempo.

“I think he needs to feel like Kurt forgives him,” Luke says honestly. “He says he's apologized and that Kurt was understanding, but...”

Blaine sighs, shaking his head. “It's a lot to carry around for six years. I think it's been holding him back.”

“I think you're right. But he's -- he's not that person anymore,” Luke says slowly, gaze shifting back to David. But Blaine, Blaine watches Luke because there's something entirely different in the way Luke is looking at David, something different in his eyes and the gears turning in his brain and the way breath carries in his chest. Blaine's jaw drops open a little and he thinks that maybe, just maybe, David's not so invisible anymore. “David's never really had a way with words,” Luke starts to explain, and then starts laughing when he sees Blaine's expression. “I just meant -- for a journalism major, it's kind of ironic. He struggled through our English classes. I guess it makes sense that he's going into broadcast, after he's done with football. He's always been good at math, though.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Luke affirms with a grin. “I'm awful at it. I mean, just absolutely _horrendous_. He spent a lot of late nights trying to help me keep my grades up.”

“Hmm,” Blaine hums. “I wouldn't have guessed.”

“Yeah, well, like I said, he's never been the academic type, at least not in the time I've known him. He just _throws_ himself into football...”

It takes Blaine a moment to pick up on the emotion that Luke's leaving left unsaid. “You worry about him.”

Luke blushes, actually blushes, and starts to toy with a napkin holder on the table. “I've never really been the athletic type. I can count the number of things I know about football on one hand. But it's a contact sport and I just... It'd be so easy for something to happen to him. He could break his wrist or suffer brain damage or something, anything really. I -- didn't that bother you?” Luke asks, finally looking up at him. “When Kurt played, didn't that bother you at all? Anything could've happened to him.”

Blaine chuckles. “Kurt was kicker,” Blaine clarifies, “for like, a week. And that was before I knew him. It's not something I've really thought that much about.” Luke settles back into the chair, resigning. “I get it, though.”

Luke smiles gratefully at him and then glances back out on the dance floor, grin broadening. “I think I'm going to go conspire with your fiance,” he decides, “to see what we can do to get David to actually dance tonight.”

“Good luck,” Blaine laughs. “Between the two of you, I don't think he stands a chance.”

Luke darts between the groups and pairings on the dance floor, skillfully weaving his way to where their friends are dancing. He grabs Kurt by the elbow and yanks him away quickly, waving over his shoulder at David as he stares after them blankly. David starts to laugh as they disappear from view, though, and he makes his way to sink down next to Blaine again. “What was that all about?”

“I know nothing,” Blaine lies wickedly, and he knows David knows he's lying, but David just grins in return and doesn't pry further. “Feel better?” he asks casually.

David eyes him warily, debating his options, and then nods. “I felt like I owed him. I have -- I did, for a long time.”

“Kurt hasn't been holding grudges,” Blaine says gently. “You know that, don't you? He wouldn't have invited you to PFLAG meetings and helped you out with your dad, he wouldn't have stood up for you when you were outed, or been encouraging about Luke -- he wouldn't have done any of that if he'd held a grudge, David, if he felt like you owed him something.”

“I know,” David says awkwardly, toying with the same napkin holder. “I just...”

“You don't have to punish yourself forever.”

David looks up at him again, but this time, he doesn't run. “I know. I think... I think I'm done,” he decides.

“You sure?” Blaine checks, ducking his head to look at him.

“Yeah,” David huffs out, settling back into the chair. “It's exhausting. I think I'm done letting it hold me back.”

Blaine can't help the smile that plays at his face but he tries not to let it show too much. “And Luke?”

David glares at him. “Give a guy time to breathe, why don't you?”

“Sorry,” Blaine backtracks, holding up his hands. “It's just -- you seem closer, now.”

David's eyes search for Luke in the garden but are unsuccessful in finding him. “We are, I think,” he says carefully. “At least I think we are. I trust him.”

“Well, obviously,” Blaine snorts. David cocks an eyebrow at him, and Blaine explains, “You told Luke about... everything. About Kurt and --”

David pales a little. “I just needed to get it off my chest, Anderson. I --”

“You trust him,” Blaine says simply. “I get it. Hey,” he adds, nudging David's knee with his own, “you and I? We're not that different.”

“Really?” David laughs disbelievingly.

“Really,” Blaine insists. “I -- look, I'm not trying to push you into anything. If you decide you want to tell him, or if you don't, that's your choice. But if you do... I wouldn't be surprised if you did it the same way I did.”

“What, in song?” David deadpans, grinning.

“I didn't!” Blaine protests, but he's laughing. “No, I was a wreck. I had so much planned, after I realized how I felt about him. There was supposed to be a lot more wooing.”

“And instead?” David prompts, curious.

“Instead he called me out on the one move I'd made and I... don't have a very good game face,” Blaine admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “So I basically just fumbled my way through it and it was totally unplanned and I felt like the world's biggest idiot.”

“It worked, though,” David points out.

“Don't ask me how,” Blaine laughs, throwing up his hands. “One minute I'm fumbling over my words and then I'm kissing him and then he was kissing me _back_.”

“So it just sort of --”

“-- happened,” Blaine finishes. “Yeah. All I'm saying is that the longer you keep it to yourself, the stronger your feelings are going to be and then you aren't going to have any control over them when they come spilling out of you.”

The corner of David's mouth turns up and he smiles at Blaine a little. “So not that different,” he says, understanding.

“Hey!” David starts a little and turns slightly as Luke's hands find his shoulders, kneading the muscle there. Blaine smirks. “Come with me.”

“Where are we going?” David asks with a laugh as Luke pulls him out of his seat.

“That'll spoil the surprise,” is all Luke says by way of reply, and then he's dragging David out through the crowd, not toward Brittany and Santana, but Finn and Puck and Mike and --

“Oh my god,” Blaine laughs as Kurt sinks down in the empty seat across from Blaine. “You did _not_.”

“We did,” Kurt says wickedly, flashing a smile at him. “Oh come on, it's brilliant! He loved doing that dance when the football team joined glee club --”

“Did you manage to rally New Directions together to sing?” Kurt just gives him a _look_ and Blaine laughs as the garden _explodes_ with noise. Luke joins the rest of the wedding guests at the edges of the dance floor, grinning widely as David shakes his head but moves alongside Finn. Brittany and Santana have slightly more trouble executing the moves than the normally would due to their dresses, but it's still flawless, even after more than four years without practice. And no, it doesn't have quite the same energy as it did the last time they performed it, but Blaine still finds himself tapping his feet along with the music, watching as Kurt smiles happily at them and Luke just stares wide-eyed at the spectacle.

There's a new energy buzzing in the air when they're done and New Directions seems to have found their footing with each other again, despite break-ups and make-ups and distance and forgotten promises to keep in touch. David somehow finds himself shuffled from one person to the next until he's colliding into Luke, shoulders first, and Luke is beaming up at him. “Something seems different with them,” Kurt notes.

“I'll say,” Blaine chimes with a grin.

Kurt raises an eyebrow at him. “What do you know?”

“Everything and nothing all at once,” Blaine sings as vaguely as possible. “How was your dance with David?”

Kurt flushes. “Nice, actually,” he admits. “Was that Luke?”

“Mostly,” Blaine affirms. “David told him about things...prom and...”

“Everything else,” Kurt breathes. Blaine reaches over to take his hand and Kurt scoots closer, resting his forehead against Blaine's. “So you think that changed things for Luke?”

“How could it not?” Blaine chuckles, scooting his chair closer and inching a knee between Kurt's legs. “Deepest, darkest secrets, remember?”

Kurt hmms but his energy still seems low, nervous. “He still hasn't told Luke how he feels, though, has he?”

“No,” Blaine sighs, “but I think he might be in a position where he wouldn't be totally opposed to actually doing it now.”

“Baby steps,” Kurt sighs. “How did we get roped into this? It's like trying to force the wrong two ends of a magnet together.”

“So you flip one over,” Blaine says simply, rubbing at the back of Kurt's neck. “And if you'd seen Luke talking about him, if you'd seen the way he _looked_ at him...”

“It's exhausting,” Kurt whines, but he's smiling, face pressed right up against Blaine's, and Blaine _can't_ resist. He uses the hand that's pressed against the back of Kurt's neck to tug him into a kiss, lips wet and warm and soft and moving against Blaine's in a familiar, needy way.

When they break apart, Kurt exhales shakily against him, gripping Blaine's arm tightly. “I seriously,” Blaine breathes, punctuating each word with a soft, salty kiss to Kurt's face, “cannot. Wait. To marry you.”

Kurt's smile reaches his eyes but he doesn't open them, just clings to Blaine a little more. “It's still another two years away,” he reminds Blaine.

“How much time do you want?” Blaine asks. “To plan? How much time do you want?”

Kurt pulls back a little, opening his eyes and staring at Blaine quizzically. “Why?”

“Maybe we don't have to wait two years,” Blaine suggests. “You graduate next year. The only reason we were holding off for another year was so I could get my credential.”

“That's a lot of work, Blaine,” Kurt sighs. “You're going to be busy all of the time and exhausted --”

“And I'm going to come home to you either way,” Blaine argues. “And if I collapse from exhaustion or sleep deprivation and end up in the hospital, I want you to be able to tell the doctors that you're my husband. I want you to be the one to take care of me.” Kurt lets out a noise somewhere between a squeak and a scoff; he doesn't seem to know how to respond to that. Blaine leans in and grazes his thumb over Kurt's bottom lip, pleading. “I just want to be married to you,” he sighs. “I -- look at this,” he says, gesturing around to the celebrations around them. “I know it's different. I know Brit and 'Tana didn't do college like everyone else. I know we're trying to be sensible. But I love the fact that it's always been us. I've known I wanted to marry you for ages, Kurt. Ask Santana.”

“Santana?” Kurt questions.

“I think she knew I wanted to marry you before I did,” Blaine laughs. “Marry me, Kurt,” he murmurs.

“You already asked me that,” Kurt teases, but his eyes are bright and he can't seem to stop smiling. “So I have what, a year?”

Blaine grins and moves in to kiss him again but he's pulled back suddenly, a pair of delicate arms wrapping loosely around his neck. “And what are you boys up to?” Santana asks cheekily against Blaine's neck.

Blaine chuckles and watches Brittany deposit herself in Kurt's lap, skirt of her gown bunching up between the boys' legs. “We're setting a date.”


	5. Footsteps in the Yard

**January 2016: Miami, Florida**

“How is it so warm here all of the time?” Kurt asks as he unfurls his scarf from his neck. “It's January.”

“I told you that you wouldn't need the scarf,” Santana laughs, pushing a pair of sunglasses on.

“It rains, sometimes,” Luke argues. “We're not in Miami all that often, but we actually get more rain in the summer than in January.”

“Hey Blaine,” Brittany says, moving to stand in front of him, “I think I lost a bobby pin somewhere in my hair. Can you help find it?”

“Sure, Brit,” he laughs, dipping his fingers into her hair and sorting through the tangled strands to try and find a dark contrast of metal. He lifts her hair up, exposing the back of her neck, and notices for the first time a faint, pink scar across the nape of her hair. His chest tightens a little as his thumb traces it; it's a safe bet that the scar is from her childhood accident and Blaine wonders how Santana can stand it, how she can run her fingers there and press her lips to the back of Brittany's neck without being affected by it.

“Blaine?” Brittany questions.

“Sorry,” Blaine says, clearing his throat. “There, next to your ear,” he says, digging the pin out of her hair.

“Thank you!” she says brightly, turning to kiss him swiftly on the cheek and then take her seat next to Santana. Blaine shakes his head because he's being _stupid_ ; the scar, the accident, the injury, the impairment -- none of those things make or break Brittany. They're not who she is. And really, Blaine's always known that, Santana's always known that. Brittany is more than the dark parts of her past. They all are.

“Santana Lopez,” a voice calls out from the end of the row. They all turn and smile as Paul Karofsky makes his way down the row to sit next to them.

“Hey!” Santana greets brightly, engulfing him in a warm hug.

“I understand congratulations are in order,” he says as he pulls away, eyeing them all.

“True,” Santana affirms with a smile. “It's Pierce-Lopez, actually.”

“Like Britney and Mario,” Brittany chimes in.

“Oh my god,” Kurt laughs. “That sounds like a horrible, horrible idea.”

“Kurt,” Paul says, reaching out to shake his hand. “David said you two set a date for this summer.”

Kurt nods and flushes, pleased. “Blaine's idea, really.”

“So you got to talk to David?” Blaine asks as they take their seats again.

“Briefly,” Paul sighs. “Playing in the Orange Bowl is a big deal. He didn't have a lot of time.”

“We'll have time after,” Brittany promises. “We're going out to dinner before he has to be back with the team.”

“Oh look, here they come!” Santana says, pointing down at the field. They all rise from their seats and cheer as the Seminoles and Ducks run out onto the field to line up for the national anthem. Santana sings quietly along and then Blaine joins her, grinning and harmonizing, and soon Kurt and Brittany are joining them, putting on more of a show than they should and attracting the attention of the rest of the people in the front row.

Once the song ends and the crowd erupts into applause, Luke scoots past them down the aisle to make his way to the sidelines. “Enjoy the game, guys!” he says brightly. “I'm covering for the View, so I get better seats,” he teases.

“Jerk,” Santana says, smacking his arm lightly as he passes her. “You just want to check out all of the hot guys in uniform.”

Luke rolls his eyes as he starts to brush by Paul; he pauses briefly and offers his hand. “Luke Barnes.”

“Paul Karofsky.”

Luke falters a little, blinking, but he meets Paul's firm handshake with his own and offers a dazzling smile. “David's father. It's so nice to finally meet you.”

“He talks about me then?” Paul laughs.

Luke looks over at the other four, who nod their approval, and then answers, “At PFLAG meetings. All nice things, I promise,” he laughs. “I'll talk to security down there, make sure they don't block you after the game so you can see him. I know you passed them on your way up, but they have a tendency to be a little... over-zealous at the end of a game.”

Paul blinks but smiles. “I've got a badge, but thanks.” His eyes follow Luke's frame as he meets up with his photographer and they make their way down to the sidelines. “Friend of yours?” he asks, trying to sound casual.

“Friend of David's, really,” Blaine says, preventing Santana from answering first. “We met him last March.”

“He came to our wedding,” Santana adds, and really, it's showing incredible self-restraint on her part.

“And he's gay?” Paul asks, eyes still following Luke.

“Yes,” Kurt chips in, and Blaine can tell that he's hoping to end the questions before Paul starts asking ones they can't answer.

The game, as it turns out, is the most anticipated of the bowl series this year. Blaine's followed college football since he was fourteen -- long after he knew he was gay -- so he's excited to be able to attend a game as big as this (televised on EPSN and all). The girls, Blaine knows, are used to being on the sidelines for games from their time on the Cheerios and Kurt -- well, Kurt has experience in every area, as a player, a cheerleader, and a spectator. But it's Paul who's proudest, Blaine knows, Paul who's enjoying this the most. Blaine can see it in every loud cheer after a successful play, in every jeer at a bad call.

The game stretches on for hours; FSU has a good team, particularly this year, but they're competing against Oregon, who almost always put up a strong showing. They're fairly evenly matched, FSU's offense maybe slightly better, and the afternoon wears on in the bright winter sun. Brittany claps a hand over her mouth when one of the players from Oregon injures his ankle; down on the field, Blaine can see Luke's face pale as the player hobbles past him. There's a moment just before half-time where there's a last minute opportunity to score for FSU and Kurt can't bring himself to stand anymore; he sits back down in his seat and grips the edge of it with his hands, knuckles turning white.

But David -- David plays the game of his life. Luke honestly wasn't kidding when he said David threw himself into the game -- he does, literally, at times. And then there are times when he turns into a brick wall, and the player in front of him doesn't get _anywhere_.

But the second half of the game has proven difficult for FSU's offense. Oregon's defense must've gotten one hell of a pep talk during half-time because it's proving more and more difficult to protect the Seminoles' quarterback. David sticks to his blocks but a lot of his teammates aren't as lucky; the Ducks somehow manage to knock over the quarterback a lot more in the second half and Blaine can't, for the life of him, figure out what they're doing different. He can see the frustration playing out on David's face every time FSU's offense comes off the field, the disappointment and sense of helplessness; there's not a whole lot he can do other than what he's _been_ doing.

There's time for one last play at the end of the fourth quarter. FSU is down by a mere five points; one touchdown will win them the game, without a field goal or a two-point conversion. They're all on their feet at this point, cheering and twisting hands nervously. A whistle blows as the teams take their formations, and Kurt buries his face into Blaine's shoulder, mumbling, “I can't watch, I can't watch. Tell me when it's over.”

The quarterback gains possession of the ball and backs up, searching for a receiver to throw the ball to. David pushes forward against the player he's been placed in front of _hard_ ; the player stumbles backward, far enough to give the quarterback just a little more time. Kurt lifts his head from Blaine's shoulder to peek at the action just in time to watch the ball go soaring across the field and --

“TOUCHDOWN!” Brittany crows, throwing her arms up in imitation of the referee. The crowd -- comprised largely of FSU supporters -- _roars_ in delight as the clock runs out; Paul is out of their row and heading down to the sidelines, flashing his badge at security and worming his way through the crowd of players and coaches and reporters. The field is a blur of red and gold and David's jersey is lost amongst his teammates and coaches. Blaine looks down at the sidelines and grins, nudging Kurt and then Santana; Luke is talking animatedly into a small tape recorder, his photographer moving quickly down the sidelines to capture the moment. He looks so _proud_ , the smile he normally wears illuminated tenfold.

It's a few moments before any of them can find David in the crowd again; Santana's the one who spots his number first, calling out and pointing. The helmet is gone and David is laughing, beaming, allowing his teammates to clap him on the shoulder and engulf him in hugs as he fights his way to the edges of the circle. He's on the fringe when his eyes land on the sideline, and Blaine has a fleeting thought as the smile on David's face changes a little. David extracts himself from the last of his teammates and starts to jog back to the benches on the sidelines. Blaine's heart seizes violently and he reaches out for Kurt's hand, and then Santana's, and as the same realization strikes each of them, they squeeze back tightly, Santana reaching for Brittany's hand.

Luke realizes much later that David's jogging over to him and not his father, still lost somewhere in the crowd on the sidelines. His face lights up as he deposits the recorder in his pocket and waits for David to close the distance, waits to congratulate him. David deposits his helmet on one of the benches but doesn't stop moving, continuing his jog until he's feet away. Luke laughs, opening his mouth to speak --

David takes Luke's face in his hands, leans down, and kisses him firmly on the lips.

There's a tension _vibrating_ between the four of them as they hold hands, watching disbelievingly as the scene plays out in front of them. Luke flails for a moment, hands fluttering spastically in the air at the initial touch. David seems to sense that and starts to pull away, hands relaxing on Luke's face, when Luke's eyes slip shut and his arms wrap around David's neck, tugging him closer.

Luke is kissing back.

Santana releases Blaine and Brittany's hands immediately, cupping her hands around her mouth and cat-calling, “Get some!” gleefully. It takes Blaine a second to do anything beyond just stare at the pair of them (this is _televised_ , for crying out loud), but a smile slowly splits across his face and then he can't stop _laughing_. He turns to Kurt, grinning --

Kurt is _crying_.

“Oh baby,” Blaine breathes, wrapping an arm around Kurt's shoulders and pressing a kiss to his jaw.

Together, they watch as David finally breaks the kiss and stares down at Luke, eyes searching, questioning. Luke blinks and exhales heavily, just staring at him for a long moment, before a small, coy smile spreads across his face. Every muscle in David's face shifts; he relaxes and stretches them all at once, a blissful smile crossing from one side of his face to the other. He looks _happy_.

Somewhere in the distance, someone calls out David's last name. Blaine looks up to see one of the coaches calling for him, beckoning him over with a wave of his hand. David nods in his direction but turns his attention back to Luke first, murmuring something none of them can hear, eyebrows raised. Luke nods and then David's gone, rejoining his team, and Luke almost falls forward.

“I can't believe he just did that,” Kurt breathes, turning into Blaine a little. “I can't -- I just can't...”

“I can,” Brittany says, smiling. “Love makes you do crazy things, right 'Tana?”

Santana grins at her. “You're damn right.”

It takes a long, long time for the crowd to disperse. In the end, there are a few stragglers -- staff and players and family members -- but the field has emptied, reporters finally gone and teams tucked safely away in locker rooms. In the end, the stadium is eerily quiet, the echos of a few laughs from the locker rooms underneath them traveling up through the tunnel. Blaine glances down to the sidelines where Luke is still rooted to the spot, perched on one of the benches, fingers toying with the threads of a scarf he never used. Blaine takes Kurt's hand, and together the four of them inch their way down the front row, leaning over the railing when they get close to Luke. “So,” Blaine says brightly.

Luke turns around, startled, but catches the four of them grinning at him madly; flushing, he rolls his eyes but ends up laughing. “Yeah.” He falters for a second, smile disappearing, before he looks back at them worriedly. “You knew,” he says quietly.

“Yeah,” Blaine laughs. “Yeah, we knew.”

There's a pause, and then, “How long?”

Santana opens her mouth to answer but Blaine claps a hand over her mouth, shaking his head. “ _No_ , 'Tana.”

She wrestles her face out from under his hand and glares at him. “You spoil my fun,” she whines. “Both of you,” she adds, indicating Kurt. “Always.”

“It's not our story to tell,” Kurt says gently, looking down at Luke.

Luke nods, and there's a lull for a moment until Brittany chimes in with, “So... how was it?”

All four of them turn to look at her, eyes wide, and then burst out laughing, cheeks aching from smiling. “Fine,” Luke chuckles, coloring again. “Great. Fantastic. Amazing.”

“I bet,” Santana drawls, grinning mischievously. “You practically _inhaled_ him --”

“Okay, Santana, enough,” Kurt chastises, but he's still laughing and Blaine notices that he seems a lot more relaxed than he'd been earlier. He notices Blaine watching him and reaches out to rest his hand over Blaine's. “I'm okay,” he adds quietly. “Really. It was just... a lot to take in. It was a big moment.”

“As big as him coming out?” Blaine questions. “Because if I remember correctly, you felt like vomiting then.”

Kurt laughs. “Different big. Surprised big. Happy big. Proud big.” Blaine smiles warmly at him and turns his palm over, linking their fingers together.

“Yes, yes, proud,” Santana sighs in bored voice, moving to stand on Kurt's other side. “But that also means that as his ex --”

“I don't think that counts, 'Tana,” Brittany says, moving to stand next to her again.

“Semantics,” she dismisses with a wave of her hand. “My point is that if you fuck him over, I reserve the right to go _all_ Lima Heights Adjacent on you.”

Luke's eyes cloud in confusion. “Lima Heights --”

“Break his heart, she'll kick your ass,” Kurt translates, trying hard not to laugh.

“Razorblades,” Blaine chimes in, grinning wickedly at Santana.

“All up in here,” she finishes, gesturing to her hair.

“Um, I --”

“Relax,” Brittany soothes, swatting Santana on the arm.

Luke doesn't look all that comforted, but he's spared having to navigate their crazy when a new voice speaks up. “Hey.”

All five of them look over to find David -- out of uniform and showered, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans -- approaching Luke. Luke's face brightens a little, a nervous smile playing at his lips. “Hey,” Blaine greets cheerfully, grinning widely.

David halts, startled, and looks up at the four of them. He seems to have forgotten they were there. “What were you guys talking about?” he asks hesitantly, and really, he must know it's a stupid question because he seems to already regret asking.

“Your friends were just threatening me with bodily harm,” Luke quips, and his tone is light but there's still something uncertain in his eyes and the lines of his face, and Blaine feels sort of bad for him, but... Seriously. The lesson is a good one: don't cross Santana.

David glances back up at them, watching as Blaine's smile spreads to Santana, and then Kurt, and then Brittany. David groans, coloring darkly. “I hate you,” he mumbles. “I hate you all.”

“No you don't,” Santana says in a sing-song voice, and Kurt actually laughs out loud. “Besides, we're doing this for your own good, you know. We look after our own.”

David smiles faintly but then his eyes flicker back to Luke for the briefest of seconds before he's glaring at his friends again. “Do you mind?”

Blaine recognizes the dismissal but Santana speaks before he has a change to agree to it. “Yeah, I do,” she says dryly. David cocks an eyebrow at her, and she actually _pouts_. “Come _on_ ,” she whines. “After all this time, you're not gonna let me in on anything --”

“Let's go, Santana,” Kurt interjects firmly, grabbing her by the elbow and hoisting her away.

“Let me,” Brittany laughs, taking Santana's arm and dragging her to wait at the exit at the top of the stairs, within seeing distance but out of earshot. As they leave, Blaine swears he hears Santana muttering something about being repressed and Kurt needing to have the stick removed from his ass, a comment so wildly inappropriate that Blaine might actually have to seriously _talk_ to her later --

“We're going,” Blaine says as he glances David's still raised eyebrow, but he hesitates, debating. “Can I ask you something, though?”

David takes a minute to deliberate before deciding, “You, not Santana. One question and I don't have to answer.”

It's good enough for Blaine. “Why now?”

David blinks, surprised, but then looks out onto the field for a moment before shrugging. “I didn't feel like anything was holding me back out there. I didn't feel so...”

“Caged?” Blaine offers.

David actually smiles at him. “Yeah. But I --” He stops, glancing over at Luke again, and the words, the reasons seem to catch in his throat. He's nervous all over again. “I don't know. I just looked over and it just...”

“Happened,” Blaine completes.

“Care to fill me in?” Kurt asks, wrapping an arm around Blaine's elbow.

“Your fiance made a point that he and I aren't that different,” David explains, “that when I decided to do something about it, it would just --”

“Happen,” Kurt repeats, smiling knowingly at Blaine. “He's very smart, my fiance.”

David sighs, settling down on the bench next to Luke, “Give us a few?”

“Not at all,” Blaine says cheekily, escorting Kurt down the row. “We'll just be up there when you're ready to go to dinner.”

“Why did you get to stay?” Santana complains when they rejoin her and Brittany. “Seriously, I'm just trying to get the boy _laid_ \--”

“It's too soon, 'Tana,” Brittany says. “And it's not right. Luke's finally down to one dance partner -- if they have sex now...”

Santana softens a little and smiles at her, tapping her on the nose affectionately. “You,” she says, “are the smartest person I know.”

“There you are!” The four of them look at the nearest exit to find David's father approaching them. “David said you'd be around somewhere. I guess we're all going out to dinner before he celebrates with the team?”

Blaine nods. “We're just, uh, waiting for him to finish up,” he says vaguely, gesturing toward the field.

Paul's eyes fall to the sidelines where his son sits with Luke. His mouth twitches and his eyebrows arch but he doesn't look upset; he looks more... curious than anything else. “Right, the reporter friend. Luke?” Kurt nods. “David was a little reluctant to do interviews by the time I caught up to him. I guess it's easier with someone you're comfortable with.”

“Yeah,” Santana laughs. “That is... so true.”

Blaine glances sideways at the benches again and finds Luke reaching for David's hand; he fights back a smile and shifts his attention back to Paul, but Paul's eyes are looking beyond him, back at the spot where his son is sitting. Blaine turns again just in time to see Luke close the distance between them and press his lips to David's. Kurt looks away pointedly and Blaine chances a glance back at Paul. David's father just looks... surprised. “Oh,” he says, clearly flustered.

“That _just_ happened,” Blaine rushes to explain. “He wouldn't have kept something like that from you --”

“No, I know,” Paul says, shaking his head. “It's just... He's never really talked about guys before, you know? He never seemed interested in anyone in particular, not in four years. Unless...” He looks from Blaine to Kurt to Santana to Brittany, eyes questioning. “Unless it's just been the one?”

“He needed the time,” Kurt says softly. “He wasn't ready before now.”

Blaine reaches for his hand. “He's a better man for it.” Kurt beams at him.

“Oh, look, here they come,” Santana says brightly. “Great, I'm starving.” And Blaine knows that _I'm starving_ translates to _Get your ass up here and tell me all about what just went down_ , but he kind of can't bring himself to care because David is still smiling as he climbs the steps to meet them.

“You all set?” Paul asks carefully, eyes darting between David and Luke.

David nods, mouthing 'later' at Santana. “We're taking two cars, right?” Blaine nods. “Do the four of you mind taking your rental? I wanted to drive with Luke and my dad.”

“That's fine,” Kurt says quickly, elbowing Santana. “We'll meet you there.” The Karofskys and Luke leave first, footsteps echoing down the empty hallway of the stadium as they make their way to the parking lot. Brittany holds tight to Santana's hand and enlists Kurt and Blaine's help in keeping Santana at a comfortable distance. Before they turn a corner, Paul digs in his pocket for a set of keys and ends up a few steps in front of his son. Luke's knuckles brush against David's, and then their fingers are intertwining -- “Oh my god,” Kurt says, halting. Blaine stops first, turning back to look at him. “He's got a boyfriend,” Kurt says slowly. “Dave has a _boyfriend_.”

Brittany smiles and Blaine's not sure how to react because he's not sure how _Kurt's_ reacting to it, but it doesn't matter because Santana is doubling over in laughter. “Oh my god, yes,” she laughs. “Thank you, Hummel. That is prime.”

“Not what I meant,” Kurt says darkly, but Santana is already dragging Brittany after them, gleeful. “What are we going to do with her?” Kurt sighs.

Blaine shrugs. “Let her have some fun. She's wanted this for him a long time.”

“Yes, but Santana doesn't exactly know the meaning of _tact_ , Blaine. She's almost _twenty-two_ ,” Kurt says dryly.

“She's Santana,” Blaine laughs, tugging Kurt flush against him and wrapping his arms around Kurt's waist. “Besides, you should be taking good things away from this.”

“I am,” Kurt shoots back defensively, squirming in Blaine's embrace.

“I know, I just meant... it's kind of your fault.”

“ _Excuse me?_ ” Kurt asks, lips thinning and eyebrows arching.

“He wouldn't even have a boyfriend if it weren't for you,” Blaine clarifies, tugging Kurt closer.

“Really?” Kurt laughs skeptically.

“Really,” Blaine laughs back, smiling. “Think about it. He met Luke at a PFLAG meeting down here. He never would've gone if you hadn't coerced him into going to meetings back in Lima. So...”

“So it's totally my fault that David has a boyfriend,” Kurt laughs, burying his face in Blaine's shoulder. “And in about six months, it will be Puck's fault that I have a husband.”

“Puck?” Blaine questions. “Really?”

“Mmhm,” Kurt hums, lifting his head. “He was the one who suggested I go spy on the Warblers.”

“Then I owe Puck a huge thank you,” Blaine decides, grinning.

Kurt wrinkles his nose. “You're making it sound like he set the whole thing up. Totally unromantic.”

“Any less romantic than what the four of us have been doing for David and Luke?” Blaine counters.

Kurt flushes. “Okay, point.”

“Hey.” They both turn to find David walking back toward him, Luke in tow. Luke's still behind him, off to the side to give them privacy, but he's still essentially _with_ David; Blaine can't help but smile. Kurt looks over at David expectantly. “I just... I wanted to thank you,” he mumbles, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. Kurt blinks in surprise but then glances sideways at Blaine, and Blaine can tell that Kurt is trying so hard not to smile or laugh because _it's totally his fault_. “Thanks for making me go to the meetings and just... Thank you. For being a _friend_ ,” he emphasizes. “You didn't have to do that.”

Kurt smiles warmly at him and shakes his head, a silent declaration of 'don't mention it' that doesn't surprise Blaine at all. _This_ is Kurt, this has always been Kurt, the boy -- the _man_ he's been in love with for so long, the one who wasn't afraid to ask for help and then reach out a hand, offering it back.

“We should go,” Luke cuts in quietly, nudging David with his elbow. “Your dad and the girls are waiting.” He reaches out a hand, offering it to David with a warm, tentative smile; David's hand slides into Luke's easily, his grip loose and unsettled as Luke's fingers enclose around his --

Blaine snorts a little as he and Kurt follow them, and David turns around, arching an eyebrow at him. “Sorry,” Blaine says, laughing, and really, he's not that sorry at all. “It's just -- he's got you wrapped around his finger, you know that?”

David looks down at their joined hands and then back up at Blaine, groaning. “Karma's a bitch.”

“At least you know what karma _is_ ,” Kurt says, his tone somewhere between praise and disdain, “unlike my brother.”

“I thought Rachel explained it to him,” Blaine laughs.

“That's not the point,” Kurt says dismissively, waving an irritated hand in the air.

“Hey,” David cuts in, grinning over at him, “he's coming, isn't he? Finn? To the wedding? Is he your best man?”

Kurt's mouth turns up a little at the corners. “He'll be there. I haven't officially asked him or anything yet, but...” He shrugs, smiling.

“And you?” Luke prompts politely, looking over at Blaine. And Blaine can't stop _grinning_ because Luke and David are still holding hands and he should not feel this giddy or proud.

But a faint memory comes back to him at the question, an old board room and a teenage girl's gift for being observant and calling the shots, for 'keeping it real.' “Santana called dibs years ago.”


End file.
